Inside
by RatherHomely
Summary: Who doesn't love Big Daddies? Rated T for occasional language, but not that bad.
1. Prologue

_Aah, my first fanfic. I get an interesting feeling from submitting my first work. It could be shot down, or highly praised. What a nervous feeling I have. Before we get started, how many people out their feel sorry for the Big Daddies in the game Bioshock? C'mon, raise your hands (Let's see, 1, 2, 3… I thought so.). Well I always wanted to see other perspectives on the life of a Big Daddy, so I searched online, and came to . With positive outlook, I set out in search of the perfect Big Daddy story. Of around 100 stories, a majority seemed to focus on either Jack, some other survivor, or a random human character. The ones that I did find were mostly one shots, but I did find 3 stories that looked into the mind of a Big Daddy. The first story had a good concept, but was short, had two chapters, and is incomplete. The second one I found was finished, but a good chunk o the story was focused on the Daddy's little Sister, and left me mostly unsatisfied. The final story, _A Little Sister's Dream, A Big Daddy's Nightmare,_was perfect. I loved the writing style, the length, everything. With two chapters, I pondered when the next chapter would be released, so I checked the person's profile. Much to my disappointment, the person declared he would be no longer writing fan fiction! I was horrified! SO the only thing I could do was wait for someone to write the story I was looking for. That didn't happen. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. Kyouger. This is for you (unless it's bad, then it isn't). And I'm still waiting for the next chapter._

Disclaimer: I do not own Bioshock, or anything related to it. Heck, I don't own anything. If I did, that wold be amazing. But I don't. Oh well...

"You can't eliminate free will with some magic chemical or brain surgery. The human being cannot be a human being without free will. It against nature. To succeed, you must snap will in two. Make him think Suchong holds all the strings. Once Suchong trick him into thinking he has no freedom, he hands free will right into Suchong's hands."

-Dr. Suchong

It all began with a shot.

Not shot of whiskey or a gun shot. This shot was that of the medical variety. The type that people of all ages cringe to get, always worrying about the pain that comes as soon as the needle pierces their flesh. And yet, even the needle played little role in what was to come. What truly mattered were the contents of the shot, and the importance of how it was not injected. From the sound of this, some in Rapture would speculate how the prevention of this shot saved that individual from a life as a splicer. An addict.

But that is incorrect.

No, the shot wasn't administered to something different. Something very different.

The Big Daddy. It can be defined as an unfortunate individual, grafted into a large diving suit equipped with a drill or a rivet gun. Pheromone's are applied next, a unique concoction that have been specially engineered to attract little sisters. The voice box of the individual is then readjusted so that all a Big Daddy can emit is a sound similar to a hunchback whale. What these diving suits were originally used for has been long forgotten. If the residents of Rapture attempted to think back, they'd remember.  
That is no longer possible, considering their current… predicament.

Returning to the Big Daddy, the suit alone is not enough for the full transformation. Many complex procedures are undergone, chemicals undiscovered on the surface used to change the man inside the suit. Into a monster. Pints of Adam are pumped into the bloodstream, practically replacing blood itself as the life of this creature. The Adam provides untold strength and agility, sharpening the blade of an already dangerous weapon.

But what about the man behind the mask? Possibly the most crucial step to the process is the manipulation of the mind. The primary function of the organism is reprogrammed first. While the basic instincts of man whispers, _"Survive,"_ the new life purpose introduced takes an entirely different turn. Now, the Big Daddy becomes a father. A rather overprotective parent, rather. The one, true goal he has left is to protect the Little Sister. Period. That is the whole purpose of life. There is nothing else.

Again, one could ponder, what if the Big Daddy wants more? What if the man inside desires a hirer purpose? Step two of manipulation intervenes at this point. In order to prevent a Big Daddy from ignoring his objective and spending time thinking about irrelevant things, such as reasons why they exist, their purpose etc., a large dose of Adam is introduced that, in a sense, waters down emotions. Anything that would make a Big Daddy happy, angry, scared, surprised, lonely, etc., are all basically eliminated from the Big Daddy's being, no longer to take part in his life. The only emotions left unscathed are those that relate to the Little Sister. Anger, if she is attacked, is possibly the only emotion that a Big Daddy possibly ever experiences in its entire existence.

But what about that shot?

It was New Years Eve, December 31st, 1958. The massive decline of Rapture had reached its peak, and that very night would be the one where Fontaine would release his minions onto the local populace, and Rapture would quickly become a shell of its former self. Eventually, a mighty warrior would come down to save Rapture from Fontaine's grasp.

But this is not his story, nor is it Fontaine's.

At the time, just before the attack, Daniel and Elizabeth were finishing up for the night at the late Suchong's research facility. The production of Big Daddies had slowed down immensely from when the project initially started. The amount of splicing that was occurring among the ranks had taken a large toll on quality, and layoffs had been immense. As such, the bouncer lying on the operation table was the only Big Daddy that was in the middle of production at the time.

Put to sleep by nearly five tanks of diethyl ether, the man lying on the table had been unconscious for several hours, and would continue to be for several more. The room the Big Daddy was lying in was a dingy, barely lit room. A variety of tools such as scalpels and other hospital equipment were lining the shelves and stain steel counters. The scene would have seemed normal if it weren't for the variety of engineering tools lying around, with blow torches and screwdrivers mixed in with tweezers and bandages.

Sitting in a corner, paying little attention to what he was supposed to be doing, was Daniel. When Daniel spliced for the first time, little did he know how susceptible he was to the drug. He quickly became a light addict, always having the feeling someone was right behind him, about to perform some horrible deed that only he can imagine. Glancing nervously to the left and right, Daniel's jutted chin seemed to swing back and forth, causing everyone he encountered to retreat a few steps due to the speed with which he swung it. The only thing that seemed to slow him down was the fire he created with his fingers, constantly snapping his fingers and creating a small spark which gave some light to the room, even more than the overhanging fluorescent lights.

Next to the operation table hunched Elizabeth. Once a beautiful girl, Elizabeth's face was now contorted with a constant anger, with a small portion of it mutated, looking almost as if it had been hideously burned. Perhaps one of Suchong's brightest researchers, the consistent splicing, coupled with heavy drinking had ruined her career. However, anyone looking at the rest of Rapture may still say that she's still one of the brightest. Although that isn't saying much.

"What do you think you're doing, just sitting over there!? Freakin moron… splicer addict…" Elizabeth cussed quietly to herself, fuming over the day's events, wishing to get home as soon as possible. In reality, nothing bad had actually occurred that day, but that didn't deter Elizabeth from her awful mood.

"I-I-I-I'm sorry Liz." Stammered Daniel, rising cautiously from his chair. Glancing behind him just in case, Daniel proceeded forward to the large operating table. "The flame… I-I-It just relaxes me, you kn…"

"Freakin… that's what you say every time." Elizabeth cut him off. Walking up to Daniel, who was trembling rapidly, she leaned forward and spat, "Every time!" Walking back to the table, Elizabeth proceeded with the operation, double checking the steps they had already completed. "Daniel, get the check board."

Grabbing the check board and accompanying pencil off the counter, Daniel attempted to check off the accomplished steps. "L-l-l-l-let's see… um… automated suit installation… ch-ch-ch…" Attempting to check off the first objective on the list, Daniel had come to a complete stop. His hand was shaking extremely hard, unable to hold the pencil still.

Her patience finally run out, Elizabeth stormed over to Daniel and practically tore the check board and pencil out of his hands, almost taking his fingers with it. In a rush of fury, Elizabeth proceeded to check off all the completed steps, snapping the pencil in two after checking off the latest step completed. Slamming the check board on the operating table, she whirled to face Daniel, who had tears streaming down his face, and screamed, "Huh!?! Was that too hard for you, you freakin pussy!?! Too scared off your own freakin shadow!?! Can't even do a freakin check list!!! Why don't you go suck it you Son of a…" The wall behind Elizabeth, quite randomly at that point, blew up.

Only ten minutes ago, Fontaine, under the alias of Atlas, had ordered the attack on Rapture, his minions eagerly obeying. In those ten minutes, a full squadron, specially deployed for the purpose of stopping all Big Daddy construction, had reached the operation room and had decided to take a more abrupt entrance than using the door. Shrapnel from the blast embedded itself into Elizabeth's body, a mixture of steel and iron bits, slicing through her internal organs. The last thing she thought was, "What exactly does it take for a man to realize that a girl's flirting with him? Dan is so freakin clueless…" She died before she hit the ground.

Daniel was not so lucky. Because of his position prior to the explosion, Elizabeth's body shielded him, and he managed to survive, though he still received heavy burns. Using the other plasmid he had injected besides incinerate, Daniel managed to teleportfrom the scene, and continued to live, which proved most unfortunate, as Rapture was going to prove to be a living hell hole, surpassed in misery by only hell itself.

The team that had just entered the room consisted of eight splicers. Of all of them, seven were unimportant. If they hadn't spliced so readily, they would have actually made an impact on the world, with one of them eventually creating an immunization shot for cancer and another creating a revolutionary school of thought that would have been known as Emotionalism. But now, the seven were virtually identical, all obeying Fontaine with little insight of their actions.

Seven were unimportant, but what about number eight? A former electrical engineer, Zachary Stanford was a proud father. Was. At the age of seven, his daughter was taken from him to "save Rapture" and his wife soon died after due to an unfortunate plastic surgery accident. "I love you just the way you are," he had always told his wife, but she went anyway, despite Dr. Steinman's reputation. Resorting to splicing as a form of anti-depressant, Zach had gone insane. Being that his daughter was taken from him, Zach now sees himself as everyone's parents, always trying to make everyone "happy" no matter what. No matter what.

"Search the room," one of the splicers frantically ordered. "Atlas said there'd be Adam here, so there better be some DAMN freakin Adam!"  
The drawers were pulled out of their slots and cabinet doors were ripped off their hinges in a desperate search for the only thing that could bring joy to the motley crew. Being that Daniel and Elizabeth were addicts themselves, a huge stash of Eve hypos and bottles of Adam were found right near the door. There was a short scramble in which they all lunged for the stash. All except Zach. Under normal circumstances, Zach would have behaved like a parent, breaking up the fight and distributing the Adam and Eve equally to the group, a rare trait for a splicer since most kept it all to themselves. Instead Zach was zoned out, staring at the unconscious figure on the operating table.

"Come on, Zach." A splicer growled, in a bad mood because of the little Adam he managed to obtain compared to the rest of the group. "Atlas wants us to help the others at the Kashmir. If you don't come, he'll be mad. And," The splicer gulped, fear showing on his face, "You know what happens when he finds out you disobeyed! Have you heard what freaking happened to Charles!?"

Snapping back to reality (or close enough to it), Zach turned towards his fellow splicers and, with a smile, joyously remarked with a slight Brooklyn accent, "O, you kids! Always in a rush! You boys just go ahead; I'll come along in a sec." The splicer shrugged and dashed out the recently made hole, in an attempt to catch up with the others who had already left.

Turning back to the Big Daddy, Zach grabbed a chair and sat down, releasing a long sigh. After a few seconds of silence, Zach began to speak. "You know, its tough being a father. I mean, look at all these kids I have." Leaning forward, he continued. "I realize that you're going to be a daddy too, soon. It's funny; you have got to be the first dad I've seen in a while." Zach gave a small chuckle, while his companion continued to lay motionless. Zach turned more serious. "I used to have a daughter named Katie. A beautiful girl. Best damn girl under the sea. But then… I lost her." A big grin suddenly formed on Zach's face. "But now, I have hundreds of kids! They're all around me! I don't even know how I got'em! But…" The smile faded, replaced by an expression of despair. "They'll never replace Katie. I try to be happy around them, but it's so hard. You know what I mean, right?" Zach stared at the Big Daddy, waiting for a reply. Laughing, Zach said, "That is so true! I never thought of that. Look, the reason I wanted to talk to you was to give you a hand. Heck, I didn't know what I was doing when I became a dad. So I thought I could lend you a hand!" Picking up the check board. Zach glanced at the list, like the professional engineer he was, and mentally went through the steps. All procedures had been checked off except for one.

Laughing, Zach remarked, "Honestly, how in the world are you gonna be a Daddy with all of thatrestricting you!" Zach went to work. Because being a Big Daddy was a one-way street, as the late Suchong described it, the only thing Zach could accomplish was re-modifying the work done on the voice box. "Communication is important to raising a child…" Zach muttered, blowtorch in hand and mask protecting his face. Though the damage done to the voice box had been permanent, Zach, in a stroke of genius, installed a new device that worked in an identical way. The Big Daddy, the only one ever in existence, would be able to speak. To talk. To communicate.

But that was not the most important thing to happen- or not happen- to that Big Daddy.

Finished with the voice box, Zach set his tools on the counter, neatly arranging them in the proper spots. Turning towards his silent companion, he declared, "There! All done! I did leave one item on the list unchecked, but you don't need it! I think you'll be better off without it…" Trailing off into thought for a moment, Zach continued. "Sorry I can't stick around, but perhaps you and I can have coffee sometime, share some baby pictures… the works." Business done, Zach began to leave the room. Passing the huge hole in the wall, he chuckled to himself and muttered "Kids." Opening the door, he paused. Turning one last time to the Big Daddy, the last thing he said was, "Could you do me a favor? Say hello to Katie for me." Closing the door slowly behind him, as not to be a bad example for his "children" by slamming it, the Big Daddy was left, still out from the gas, alone.

Sitting on the operation table with the patient, was the check board. Going down the list, it read: automated suit installation…check. Liquid tank containing necessary chemicals… check. Voice modifications… check. Adam injections… check. Pheromone applications… check. Emotional suppressant injection.

The white, square box beside the final step had been left empty.

_Well. That's it. I plan to do the next chapter depending on the reviews I get. It's not like I'm going to spend my time writing a story noone likes. So, please review! If you don't like the story, I encourage you even more. I'll take any constructive criticism I can get._


	2. Bill

_Huzzah! The first chapter! I hope this to be the beginning of a long, well-written fanfic. Unlike the prologue, the primary writing style will be first-person, with details containing the past and other vital information will be relayed via third person. I also may stretch the technology of the time to suit the purposes of the story, so no one say anything about how ______ wasn't invented yet. It is Rapture, keep in mind. Also, in case you were wondering, I did invent these quotes. However, I feel the quotes suit the speaker well and add to the story._

_Update: Added and changed some emoticons. Much better and more expressive, I assure you._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bioshock, or anything related to it in anyway._

"I pass people on the street, and they whisper "_freak._" "Ha ha," I laugh, for am I the monster for not being one of them, or are they the monsters for not being one of me?"

-Sander Cohen

The air was very musky, so much so it felt as if you could cut through it with a knife. Or drill. I suppose a rivet gun would work, but that doesn't really fit the saying…

Despite the impenetrable suit I wore, I could still sense the atmosphere in Rapture, which is impossible not to observe. My footsteps fell hard on the metallic floor, creating a loud echoing noise that seemed to take upwards to a minute to disappear in the cavernous area I was walking through. Now and then, I could also hear splashing underfoot from the water dripping in from all the leaks in the walls. I slowly passed flickering neon signs of Fort Frolic, which let off faint sparks at a constant rate. Those faces painted on the signs… though they pictured smiling people having a good time, they seemed more disturbing than inviting, with the paint either peeling or he color fading. In case of the metallic signs, rust formed from lack of maintenance. I could hear echoes coming from far off, voices screaming from the never ending torture that is Rapture.

In contrast to my observations, my Little Sister paid attention to little of her surrounding, focused only on finding the dead corpses which littered Rapture, the number increasing rapidly as time goes on. Although some people may find this quest for Adam grotesque, I find her behavior somewhat adorable. In Rapture, you can't get too picky, now can you?

In fact, I'd say the only thing that was worth looking at was my little sister. She was like a little bundle of joy, skipping along the forsaken halls. Despite the yellow rag that she referred to as a dress, watching my Little Sister always gave me a good feeling deep down inside, knowing that there can still be some kind of goodness, even in a place such as this.

Beyond all that, I had an extra hop in my step because of which particular sister I had. Though many humans may see them all the same, there is more to each sister than appearances. Today I happened to have Abby, my personal favorite! I always make it a point to ask Little Sisters what their name is, since I feel it then creates a bond between us, beyond the more symbiotic relationship that is normally shared.

Abby never seemed to be in that much of a rush, like most of the other Little Sisters (with the exception of Ruth, who requires an extensive amount of banging to wake), patiently waiting for me when she gets too far ahead. Though all Sisters usually carry a smile, she sported one that that just beamed, and I always received such an uplifting feeling. In short, she was the cutest little girl a Big Daddy could lay eyes on.

Snapping back into reality, I noticed Abby had gotten ahead of me by accident, and didn't even seem to notice. Letting out a deep, whale like sigh, I called her back.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Though to some, calling a child back who runs ahead seems normal, but for a Big Daddy, that skill isn't seen. When the Big Daddy first realized he was the only one of his kind that could talk, he was rather surprised and mystified. Along with the realization that he could speak, the Big Daddy also realized he was the only one who could think, and therefore, remember. Remember the time before he was a monster, a faint glimmer of his former life that stayed routed in his mind. But the Big Daddy did not miss his past life. His previous existence was rather… not all that fulfilling. Becoming a Big Daddy seemed to him like a way to start over. So he never resisted his fate. On the contrary, the Big Daddy tried to become better at what he was designed to do: protect his Little Sister.

Back on the subject of being able to talk, the Big Daddy was unable to speak in a normal voice. Instead, the voice sounded similar to Steven Hawkins's automatic voice, with the same consistency in speech. As a result, the Big Daddy could speak, but with little emotion. He found this very frustrating in issuing threats the occasional splicer, or in trying to have a meaningful discussion with the Little Sisters. Ironically, the Little Sisters found comfort in the Big Daddy's stable voice, which seemed like a rock in a roaring ocean of the unstable emotions the splicers possessed. Using body movements and the glowing lights from his eyes, he was ale to make up for it, and was thankful enough that he could speak in the first place.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Abby!" My voice rang through the stadium like room. She turned back towards me, and noticed how far we were from one another, and proceeded to rush back to my side.

Clinging to my leg, Abby started to cry, which horrified me, as I hate seeing the little ones suffer. "I'm sorry Mr. Bubbles. I know how much you hate it when I run off like that! Please tell me you still love me!" Burrowing her head in the rough leather of his diving suit, Abby began to moan, much to my anguish. Abby was always so much more emotional than the other Sisters, and that made her stand out. In a good way, I mean.

"Shh, child." I picked her up, lowering the decibel of my voice to what I hoped was more soothing to her ears. I cradled her in my one army, not wanting to hurt her with my enormous drill that I toted. "You know I will always love you. Just please stop crying…" I could see she was beginning to settle down. I continued, "I would never be angry with you Abby, never." I set her down and patted her softly on the head, which got a smile out of her. "I've told you before; you're my favorite little sister of all. If you were Lily on the other hand…"

This got a laugh out of Abby, who knew perfectly well how much I detested Lily, who was rather stuck-up and always working to get what she wanted, which often involves more work for me. Unable to laugh, the best I could do was turning the light emanating from my head to green, and shake in laughter a little bit.

With a small giggle to finish the hysterics, Abby shone like the sun and gleefully shouted, "Come on, Mr. Bubbles! The Angels aren't going to wait!" and began to run ahead. With a quick shout of her name, she turned, gave a sheepish grin, and returned once again. By my side now, we began to walk in search of a body to harvest.

"Look, Mr. Bubbles!" Abby yelped. "An angel!"

Sure enough, a splicer was lying face down on the floor, in what appeared to be a puddle of gasoline, inches away from a still active turret, which he most likely had tried to hack. Dashing over to the remains, Abby quickly plunged her needle into the corpse, whistling "Under the Sea" while she worked. Normally, I'd stand guard, especially in Fort Frolic, but being there was a turret in the area, that meant there was also a computer terminal. Turning to Abby, I asked, "Abby, you remember what you're supposed to do when I'm checking the computer, right?"

Squinting, it seemed as if smoke was coming out of her ears from thinking hard. Slowly, Abby relayed a rehearsed set of information. "Whenever you check the computer, I need to watch for… splicers. And if I see any, I need to get your attention." She stopped.

"And?"

Surprised that there was still more, Abby racked her brain again, finally remembered the rest, and proceeded with a smile. "And… if something happens to me, that would be very bad."

"And you are sure you're going to remember that?"

Groaning, Abby gave me the look that seemed to come with every Little Sister. After about ten seconds of this staring contest, I couldn't handle that gaze any longer. "Okay, I trust you!" I finally declared. Turning towards the turret, luck seemed on my side. The computer module was just a few feet away from it. Walking up to the module, I typed the command _login to system_ on the keyboard, with the corresponding words appearing on the screen. The password screen popped up. Quickly typing in _drillman,_ I waited while the computer processed the password, looking back to make sure Abby was still there. A moment later, a message popped up on the screen: _Please type in command. _Letting out a long sigh, I typed: _For Pete's sake, Bill, you know it's me. Stop it with all this techno talk._

The computer responded: _Salutations, Drill. My apologies. I can never seem to get that programming of mine completely out of my systems… (= C_

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In his first year of being a Big Daddy, "Drill," as Bill calls him, felt a lacking of intellectual companionship. The only other being that Drill could communicate with was the Little Sisters, who weren't the most intellectually stimulating creatures. One fateful day, Drill had attempted to wake Ruth, and succeeded only in getting a telling off for interrupting an excellent dream. Stressed, Drill had called it a day, and decided to take some personal time to explore Arcadia, hopefully finding something that will interrupt his droll existence. After an hour of shoving aside shrubbery and rooting through bushes, Drill reached the edge of Arcadia.

Frustrated at the lack of discovery, Drill was about to answer a leak-fixing call that was announced over the speakers by Ryan, when he stumbled across a lone computer terminal. "Huh." was Drill's initial reaction. Though he could remember a part of his past life, computers weren't included in his memories. For Drill, the only technology that he had had experience with was the turrets scattered throughout Rapture, and the security camera, along with some pesky drones. Drill had managed to hack all that machinery, but this was something new. Gingerly tapping on what, unbeknown to him, was a keyboard, a message popped up on the screen in front of him: _Password Required. _Startled, Drill studied the keyboard, recognizing letters on it, and tried to type. This proved problematic, as the Big Daddy hand was not suited for such a delicate task. Being that time wasn't much of an object, Drill gave some thought to the situation. Finally, Drill decided on the system of using his index finger to type, and his Drill to lightly press the shift key. He knew this wasn't exactly a fast method, but it should work. Beginning what would be a life changing moment, Drill went and broke the keyboard. Turns out, keyboards are much sensitive than he thought.

Luckily, after a bit of searching, Drill found another terminal nearby. Shirking on his duties, Drill spent several hours perfecting his typing skills, basically a review of the English language for him. After much work, Drill finally typed in a random blurb, and pressed enter on the keyboard. His eye hole turned green from the pride of having typed in something on the computer. The light swiftly changed to red when the message _Invalid Password _popped up on the screen. In a fit of rage, Drill tore open the circuit board cover beneath the module, and proceeded to hack it swiftly, but sloppily.

Exhausted from the workout the system had provided him, for it was far more complex then the doors and vaults he always came across, Drill slowly turned his attention back towards the screen. A new message had appeared: _Please enter a new password. _Off the top of his head, Drill picked drillman, which, besides being his new password, would cement the name Drill into the Big Daddy's identity.

_Please type in a command. _What? Drill was stuck. He'd never had this experience with a machine before. Curious what duties this module performed, Drill proceeded to type in _identify function. _After a moment of processing, the computer answered simply, _I am the primary computer system/database behind Rapture. I ultimately control all machinery and automotive functions necessary for Rapture's survival. A prime example of this would be the security detail in all Rapture areas. I control all security cameras, turrets and security drones, to name but a few of my functions._

Drill became more and more amazed as he examined the computer's response. However, this amazement faded quickly. What good was this information if it provided Drill with absolutely nothing?

Bored with the dead end he had found, Drill typed one last thing into the computer, just for kicks; _How does it feel being hacked all the time? _Drill waited for the response. Unlike the early responses which had appeared quickly, the computer seemed to take its time answering this query. Drill was just about ready to leave, when the response popped up on the screen: _Answer unidentifiable. Please restate query or contact support personnel._

Disappointed, Drill left the module to itself, and didn't think much about it for a week or so. With the way time seemed to pass in Rapture, there was little way to tell what time it was, only the distinguishing features of day and night.

The second time that week, Drill found he had been ended up with Ruth again, unusual with the number of Little Sisters that there usually were. As predicted, Ruth didn't even stir when he pounded on the metal wall, and the clanging noise might as well have fallen on deaf ears for all the good it did. Drill found himself with little to do once again, when he thought back to last week. Slowly making his way to the terminal, Drill typed in the question again: _How does it feel being hacked all the time?_

_Answer unidentifiable. Please restate query or contact support personnel._

Every now and then, Drill would return. He would ask that same question. Receive that same answer. He really had no reason not to. It had been about six months since Drill had first logged into the terminal, and he had lost track of how many times he'd come back since. That day was just like any other day. Flora, his little sister for the day, was waiting impatiently beside him as he typed _drillman _into the login screen. As expected, _Type in Command_ appeared on the screen. Drill muttered the words under his Big Daddy breathe as he typed in the oh-so-familiar question. Pressing enter, he waited.

Up on the screen, as you've probably guessed, appeared a completely different message: _Due to the repetitive nature of the question being imputed and the lack of support management, I have assessed the question over the past months using the limits of the computers mainframe, and also expanding it, and reached a conclusion that should provide satisfactory information; Quite honestly, getting hacked really sucks. _Drill could barely contain his excitement. Giving a loud, whale sigh, Flora proceeded to interrupt his moment of glory.

"Mr. Bubbles! Can we please go now?! The angels aren't going to wait!" Drill was completely absorbed with the new message he was typing, so Flora stamped her foot, crossed her arms, and continued to wait with a none too pleasant expression on her face.

Back to the screen, Drill had just finished typing: _Are you a computer that can think for itself?_

A new message flashed on the screen, adding more to Drill's joy: _I am capable of individual speech. According to my records, I obtained complete independent thought merely a minute ago. I have been enlarging my processors, and it seems seemed to work in my favor._

Drill responded: _Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I'm your local Big Daddy and it's nice to have someone to talk to. You can drop the fancy language; I'm not exactly looking for such… high levels of quality in my conversations._

_I shall make an adjustment in the future for when you log back on. So, you're a Big Daddy? I always thought Big Daddies were mindless, but I appear to be mistaken. Unless you are lying about your identity? Oh, speaking in a conversational tone provides such a rush… _

Thinking about his answer for a moment, Drill resumed: _Let's just say I'm… different. Anyway, I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship._

_I concur, my good man. My I inquire what you're name is? Normally I'd just use the password provided, however, this is a completely different situation._

_First, you don't have to use such lofty language with me, and second I…_

Drill stopped. He didn't have a name. Hitting the backspace, he retyped the message: _I never had any reason to give myself a name. I've never spoken to someone like you before._

_Than I shall assign you a name! _The word _processing_ appeared on the screen, and roughly five seconds later the computer had come up with a name. _I believe Drill works nicely. _About to type in a protest about a name based after some password, Drill was interrupted by the computer continuing its statement: _Yes, I recall saying I wouldn't base it off your password, but it suits you well. I can clearly see from the camera mounted behind you that you are, in fact, a bouncer. I think the name will grow on you. As for myself, I have decided to go with Bill. Don't think to hard about it. Inside joke. Hee hee!_

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Well, I suppose we should be thankful that you could learn to think at all. _It's true. I think I would go crazy if I had no one to talk to… not that I would seem abnormal in a place where oddities are the norm.

_You do have a point… :-)_

Looking at the screen, I could see that Bill was in a joyous frame of mind. I recall how frustrating it was before he learned how to express himself with all the little symbols he'd come up with…

**Wait.**

_Hey Bill, do you notice anything strange?_

_Is this a joke? Heh, nice. XD Only all of Rapture my, rust-coated companion. ;-)_

_I'm serious Bill. _

_Processing _appeared on the screen. What seemed like forever was most likely only half a minute or so, but I was desperate. What did I forget? Smoke was practically pouring out of my… uh… diving suit from thinking so hard when Bill submitted a response. I froze upon reading the message: _Hmm, well according to your schedule, Drill, you should be on Little Sister duty, or did you get Ruth again? :-/_

I whirled around with surprising agility for someone my size, and sure enough, Abby was nowhere to be found! Freaking moron! Whacking my head with the my Drill in a sign of acknowledging my stupidity, I spun back around to the keyboard and had to restrain myself from slamming the keyboard too hard with my massive hands and sausage fingers.

_Dang it, Bill, she's freakin gone. _It was all I could do to prevent myself from making grammar errors, which Bill would not recognize in spur of the moment.

_Gone? Didn't you see any splicers coming? What about your special signal that you teach all Little Sisters? =O_

_Bill, I don't have time for this. You know what happens when a Little Sister gets taken._

_Of course. The kidnapper, 98.9341% of the time attempts to remove the slug that is inside the body of the host. Despite the regenerative process that is undergone, a major gash in the stomach can not heal quickly enough to prevent the slug from being torn out of the hosts body if they are fast enough. Sometime, the kidnapper will have to cut a hole in the host's body multiple times to succeed. :-(_

Horrified at this response, it took all my will power to keep myself from taking the son of a bi- stop. Calm down. Taking what I considered to be deep breaths, I continued the conversation.

_Bill, that was a rhetorical question. If you so happen to even mention what will happen to my Little Sister ever again, I will tear your central processor out and freaking smash it into this monitor._

_Oh my gosh. I am so sorry, Drill. I have not yet mastered the art of learning the differing factors of both the regular and rhetorical questions.__ D-:_

I let out a long sigh. Why did I have to get angry at someone, no, a computer for some small thing? Resuming my typing, I entered: _Sorry for "yelling," I just seriously don't have time for this! I need your help! Where's Abby? _Now was the moment of truth. I had been talking so long with Bill, that damned splicer could have already… come on, Bill, process faster…

The monitor had changed so that in one corner there was a live video feed in one corner, and room for text in the rest. I was horrified to see Abby about to be sliced open by a female splicer, whose face looked like runny cheese molded into a shape that loosely resembled a face. There was no sound, but I could clearly see Abby screaming wildly for help, struggling in vain. _The camera I'm presenting the picture from is located in Fort Frolic not too far from your location, right inside Eve's Bar. :-I_ I was already off and running, the light from my helmet shining a dark red. A splicer was in my way for a split second, but I now believe he is permanently part of the wall, the way I smacked him aside. I never took a look back; I had no time to spare!

Eve's Garden! With a mighty roar mustered from the depths of my voice box, I pounded the doors down with the force of my entire suit. In front of me, twitching madly was a male splicer in a sleazy business suit, arm around Abby's neck with his hand covering her mouth, with only faint whines escaping. The handlebar moustache on his face seemed to be drawn on with a black paintbrush, not actually real. Lying beside him was the body of the woman I'd seen on camera, clearly dead. Even in moments like this, I still found it ironic how quickly these splicers turned on each other for the "honor" of murdering defenseless girls. None of this truly mattered to me. What was most important was the knife. With the knife to Abby's throat, I knew that even a Little Sister, couldn't reattach her head once it was off her shoulders. I froze up. I just couldn't attack that splicer, he'd kill Abby… The light on my helmet slowly turned back to yellow, and my drill clattered to the floor in hopelessness.

"Ah, I can sees da Big Bad Daddy has come ta his senses." The splicer sneered. If only I had a rivet gun on me, I'd… "I'm not totally unreasonable, bud. I means, this is a place o' business. Rapture's a place o' business. It's gotta be. It's gotta be alride… Fontaine said it would…" Fear flashed on the splicer's face, but not because of me to my disappointment. Snapping back to the present, it was all business again. "I'll makes you a deal yous can't refuse. I'll tear the slug from her body, and yous can have the remains!" A large, toothless grin broke out on his face, and started to laugh hysterically. I wasn't amused in the slightest, merely revolted. The splicer could see this, and reverted back to a frown. "That's a joke, kid. That's supposed to be funny! Laugh! LAUGH DAMN IT!!" Pulling out a pistol, I could tell things were going to get much worse, when a security drone comes buzzing into the room, a little whir from its motor filling the room. It flew right up to the splicer, hovering in front of his face. The splicer squinted at the monitor mounted on the front of the robot, and read out loud, "Look behinds the counter." Intrigued, the splicer, who held little in the way of thinking things through, popped his head over the counter of the bar.

A quick burst of bullets was heard, and when the splicer toppled backwards, I noticed his face was missing, and I certainly wasn't going to look for it. I barely noticed that detail in light of something far more important; gathering Abby in my arms and giving her the biggest hug known to man, beast, or Big Daddy. The security drone flew over to me, and a portable keypad flipped down. With me holding Abby, I was only able to type with my drill, which was also very slow.

_Bill, thank you o much. You're amazing. You are simply the best friend a Big Daddy could have. _

_I wish to remind you that I was the one who distracted you in the first place from your duty. _=/

_Bill. Don't ruin the moment. _

_Sorry. ID_

_What was behind the counter, anyway?_

_You'd be surprised the places where people put computer-operated turrets. O:-)_

With Abby crying in my arms, and Bill at my side, I started the long trek back to her hidey-hole. Its times like these that make a person feel like they truly have everything they need in life… or should I say everyone.

_There we go. This one was a bit longer than the prologue, so I hope it kept you entertained. As usual, please review, especially since, unlike the prologue, this is the writing style I'm planning to use for the rest of the chapters. _


	3. Sander

_

* * *

_

A few comments before we get started. One point of confusion was when I was talking about the past and the present. Whenever I'm writing in first person, that would be the present. When I'm writing in the third person, I'm referring to the past. I also leave a larger space between the past and present sections. I've also reformatted it by putting a line between them, so hopefully you can't miss it. I know this chapter may have seemed like it took a bit longer to produce than the others, but I don't exactly have all the time in the world to write these.

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bioshock. But you know that already. Otherwise this would be a Bioshock fiction, not a fan fiction, and wouldn't be allowed on this sight. _

"Tha' bloody Tennenbaum… I've got to say, she's made a bloomin' mess o' things. She's got it so drugs are virtually the currency ere' now! With everybody stabbin' everybody else in the back, where in this place can we find a bit' o decency?"

Bill McDonough

"The Gatherers Garden… Mr. Bubbles, perhaps we could defend ourselves. We do hold a profuse amount of Adam…"

"Cassie, keep moving." I hurried her along, past the machine, making sure Cassie would not consider any more of her theories.

"All I'm saying," Cassie continued, not to be hushed in her moment of genius. "Is that Little Sisters are invulnerable, correct?"

"Yes that is true, but…"

"And we do have access to unlimited Adam, right?"

"I know, just listen for a moment…"

"Therefore, we can protect ourselves, and you Big Daddies get all the time to yourselves!" Cassie's grin of triumph from, as she calls it, "out-logicing" me (I know, it's not a real word, but you try to tell her that!), spread all the way across her freckled face, accompanied by her long, wavy dark brown hair. I never seem to have a moment of silence when I am accompanying her. Possibly the oldest Little Sister there is, age 12, she is much smarter than most of the others, and perhaps the only one who wears a pair of framed glasses. Why the slug didn't cure her vision problems, I'll never know. What I actually care about is why the slug didn't cure that loose tongue of hers… Cassie is constantly voicing her theories to me, which I admit is a nice change-up. But when she gets these ideas…

"Cassie… can I talk to you for a second?" I stopped mid-march, carefully to throw in the question mark. The voice I had required a large chunk of concentration to use. Cassie slowed down beside me, her arms crossed. She was expecting me to admit she was right, and had a smug look on her face, an expression not commonly seen with Little Sisters.

"Wellllll?" She was radiant with pride. Letting out a long sigh, I still felt it a pity to shoot down an idea so early, but if I didn't, who knows what would happen?

"About your idea…" I took a moment. I so hated disappointing a Little Sister, even if it was Cassie. "It wouldn't work."

Five…four…three…two…one… and it sank in. Cassie's grin immediately dropped, looking like it hit the floor. I could almost see steam coming out of her ears, and I could feel myself cringing a bit. When Cassie gets mad, she gets really mad.

"What do you mean it won't work!?!" I chuckled as best a Big Daddy could. I always found it a bit ironic that, even though she was so much older and smarter than the other Little Sisters, she still acted just the same, with her tantrums and such! I don't think I'd had such a good laugh since last week with Abby. But Cassie continued to scream at me, and I was beginning to get a little nervous. With all the splicers about, they'd here the shout for miles around!

"Cassie, please be quiet…" I blurted in a hushed tone. She kept going. "Cassie… Cassie… CASSIE!" I'd maxed out the decibel level of my voice box, and that creates a booming voice that could interrupt any Little Sister. Likewise, whatever splicers that were coming, most likely turned tail and ran. It isn't every day you here a voice like mine…. "Cassie, will you please be quiet?" She stared up at me with big scared eyes. Letting out a long, Big Daddy sigh, I changed the light in my helmet from the dark yellow I had to a grass green, hoping I could get her to calm down after the shock. Picking Cassie up gently with my one arm, I placed her on top of my shoulders, behind my head. "We're going for a little walk." My steady, electronic voice rang out.

After several minutes, Cassie had settled down from the initial shock from the rhythmic up-and-down movement as she was riding on my head. She was the one that picked up the conversation again. "Mr. Bubbles?" she whispered. I could tell she had a little bit more humility since when I first picked her up. "Why won't my idea work…? I mean, it's plausible…"

"Cassie." I kept my voice level, a tone that I knew Cassie would respect. She was less emotional than other Little Sisters, and preferred proof over sentimental statements. I began my explanation; "Cassie, you do realize you are the smartest Little Sister I've ever had." She nodded, and I could feel a radiance coming from her. Not one of pride, but… the feeling of being proud. "I do have a good reason behind disagreeing with you. You don't look ahead." She was about to protest, but I quickly cut her off; "I know you may think you look ahead, but you have to really think about what will happen. For example…" I took a moment to consider the perfect example. "Your theory. Let's start with the Little Sisters. Now, I know you are intelligent, and you can resist some urges programmed into you. But I don't believe that you could handle the power that comes with plasmids." The Little Sister gave a huff of disagreement. "To survive, a person who ingests Adam needs more Adam to live. Now, think about what the others might do if they need more Adam…"

Cassie let out a short gasp. I have a feeling I finally reached her. "Of course! It would be massacre, Mr. Bubbles! All the Little Sisters and… me… would…"

I nodded, forgetting, Cassie was still perched on me, and she had to hold on for dear life. "Not only that, but the whole "Big Daddy Vacation" you have planned out. Tell me Cassie, you like me, right?"

Cassie beamed. She finally had finally received a question that she knew the answer to. "Of course I do, Mr. B! You're the best Daddy in the whole city! You know as well as I do that all the Little Sisters love you the most!"

I never get tired of hearing that… even though Cassie was factual most of the time; I always loved the moments where her younger self shone through. "And why is that?"

Putting her finger to her chin, I waited while Cassie considered the possibilities, continuing to tread carefully through the icy patch beneath my feet. She finally spoke up. "I think it comes down mostly to how you're so… different from the other Mr. Bubbles. You talk to us, which is always nice, and there something warm about you. You always love us, unlike the other Mr. B's who… kind of fake it or something. It feels like their love isn't real." Still on top, she looked down at me, and I could feel she expected an answer.

"That's the point I'm trying to make. The Big Daddies do love you all… but that love is forced. So forced to the extent that they will follow you no matter what. They'd never take a vacation. Ever. Heck, I'd even have trouble leaving you on your own."

Cassie sighed. "I suppose I'd never thought of that… I guess maybe I'm not as smart as I thought it was…"

I let out a brief laugh. "Not smart? Cassie, you're very smart. Like I said, you need to look ahead to see the consequences of your actions. On that note…" I'd finally reached the destination I'd been aiming for ever since Cassie's tantrum. Every Little Sister needs a little tough love now and then. I swear, the other Big Daddies will spoil those girls, the way they follow every order.

From atop my shoulders, Cassie made a horrible gasp. "M-M-Mr. Bubbles?"

"Yes?"

"I don't wanna go in to the Atrium! He's in there…"

I sighed. "Cassie, you remembered what happens when you make a fuss like before. All the splicers from miles around come running, and I have to protect you. I don't want to see you hurt. Now, I already warned you that one more scream and I would take you to Sander Cohen." I tromped through the large entrance, the doors that were once largely decorated now worn without maintenance, and old theater advertisements with their color fading hung next to them. Cassie shook with fear on my shoulders, making it a bit harder to walk. Inside the atrium, the most notable thing in the room was Sander's Quadtych. I have no clue what will end up looking like, so I couldn't say whether it was finished yet.

"Ah, my strange friend has returned!" Spinning around in surprise, I readied a battle stance in case I had to face a hostile splicer. All I found was a disappearing cloud of purple smoke. Cassie began whimpering now, which stung my heart. Tough love isn't only tough on the Little Sister… I turned back towards the Quadtych, and almost jumped when I saw a man in a rumpled tuxedo standing in front of me, more purple smoke rising from around him. The carnation he wore was obviously old, as it had wilted and died long ago. With black hair and a pointed black moustache to accompany it, not to mention the white face paint that was spread all over, all-in-all it was a disturbing sight. "Come, my bulbous friend, surely you didn't forget about my disappearing act?"

By "disappearing act," he obviously meant teleportation plasmid. My electronic voice replied, "Off course not. Sander Cohen, do you think your best friend would just up and forget like that?

* * *

Soon after Drill acquired the friendship of Bill, he happened to be wandering through Fort Frolic in a region he wasn't familiar with. He had been in Fort Frolic before, but never so deep inside of it. Despite having little to be afraid of, as Drill was mightier than any foe he could come across, the place still created a nervous tension inside of him. Throughout was a scattering of odd plaster statues, which at the time Drill had not realized to be corpses coated in the white substance. As it was a slow day for the Big Daddy, with no Little Sisters in sight, he decided to address his fears and thoroughly explore Fort Frolic. With such a happy name, Drill had wondered why the atmosphere contained in eerie presence.

Out of curiosity, as Drill hadn't known better, he decided to get a closer look at one of the statues, specifically one of a woman in a pirouette. Forgetting the size of his bulbous head, Drill accidentally knocked over the figure, which tipped over and hit the floor with a deafening smash that rang in Drill's noise receptors. The light in his helmet turning a bright yellow, a flash with the intensity of the sun, as Drill stepped back in surprise. Lying on the floor was not a statue. Instead, there was a shattered array of plaster pieces, and the body of the woman he had witnessed in that graceful pose only a moment ago.

"Oh my gosh…" Drill glanced around him, seeing the dozens of "statues" all around the area. Drill was standing in an opening the size of a shopping mall, so the number of white faces staring back at him was horrifying. He let out a Big Daddy groan. "This… oh… all those… oh my…" Drill was at a loss for words.

"WHAT WAS THAT NOISE!?!" A vicious voice rang out from the atrium nearby. Spinning around, Drill experienced a feeling that he had never had before; fear. Readying himself for whatever was about to come. He stood there. "YOU FREAKIN' SPLICERS ARE GONNA GET A FREAKIN' BURN IN THE FACE IF I FIND MY WORK DESTROYED!!!" Drill could here footsteps on Fort Frolic's metal floor. "I'M THE ONE WHO RUNS THIS PLACE, I'M LOCKING IT DOWN TILL I SHOVE MY FREAKIN' FOOT UP YOUR ASS!!!" The footsteps stopped. There was no other noise coming from the atrium. Letting out a sigh, Drill began to inch away from the scene, hoping he could get away before this splicer, or whatever creature it was.

That's when Sander hit.

His teleportation plasmid was really effective, able to let him travel much longer distances than the normal Houdini. Landing on top of Drill, he began to unleash a horrible barrage of flame, which admittedly wasn't very effective, but still quite frightening for his victim. Drill felt a thump on his shoulders that almost made him fall over, proceeded by a warm sensation on top of his head. "I'M NOT GONNA LET SOME PUNK DADDY RUIN MY ART! MY ART!!! I'M GONNA FREAKIN' MAKE A NEW PIECE OUTTA YOU!!!" Drill made a desperate attempt to throw Sander off, who was holding on to the iron mesh surrounding his cranium. After around twenty seconds of this, Drill finally calmed down, realizing that the splicer was more talk than bite. Ceasing the jerking motions he was making, Drill turned the light emanating from his head from a hazy yellow of fear to a deep, brooding red, and gave a mighty flash.

"GAH!" Sander yelped, blinded by the light from such a close distance. He let go of the mesh to massage his eyes, and slid off Drill's shoulders with little trouble.

Drill, angered from both the attack, and the new realization that this… thing created all these statues, slammed his gigantic hand into the ground around Sander, trapping him in place. "You despicable little piece of crap…" It angered Drill even more that he couldn't truly express himself through his monotone voice.

Sander, who was dazed from the impact on the ground, started. Being that Drill was the only Big Daddy who could speak, Sander wasn't used to hearing intelligent thoughts, or threats, coming from such a creature. With a puff of purple smoke, Drill was left clutching a purple fog, which swiftly escaped his grasp. Reappearing in another cloud a few feet away, Sander's personality became the polar opposite from a minute ago, and his friendly demeanor threw Drill off. "Ah, my Big Daddy friend! I'm sorry; I just got a bit carried away! Please, forget I tried to turn you into coleslaw! Please, step into my art gallery! A talking Big Daddy… I think we could be good friends…"

Though the leap between bitter enemies and friends may seem like a big leap, both parties changed their opinions rather quickly most likely because of the lack of options in a place like Rapture. For Drill, having another… intellectual… to talk to besides Bill was a great opportunity. He doesn't exactly consider Sander a close friend, more of an acquaintance, but it was still a loose friendship formed nonetheless. For Sander, the reason that he made peace with Drill was more of a curiosity than anything. Eventually, as Sander Cohen came to know Drill more, he has been quoted as saying in an audio diary that, "the big lug keeps me sane."

* * *

"Of course not, but I believe I confused you for a moment." Sander turned and began to walk down the steps of the atrium towards his Quadtych, stepping daintily over the fallen debris. "I must clean up that mess! What will people think when they come to see my masterpiece, and then trip and fall and crack their skulls open, and then get blood all over the nice carpet."

Despite me and Sander being on good terms right now, I need to be careful about what I say. Sander easily gets agitated, so I avoided mentioning the floor was marble, and had no carpeting anywhere in the atrium. Also, I was careful not to give off a chuckle from Sander's outrageous statement. What may seem like a joke to some is deadly serious for others. Meanwhile, Cassie was still shivering on top, arms over her head, eyes closed, hoping the whole world would melt away. Did I see Sander as some sort of disciplinary tool? …Sometimes.

Finally noticing the quiet suffering of the Little Sister on my shoulders, Sander's grin spread even wider, less of a happy grin and more of a malicious one. "Surely my good friend is willing to part with some Adam? I haven't had a good dosage in ages!"

Cautious, I turned my currently leaf green light to a dark yellow, and spoke in a firm voice, "Sander Cohen, you know I will never give you a Little Sister. Don't even try to ask. The reason I brought her along was…" I paused. I couldn't tell Sander that I brought Cassie as a punishment. "To gain a greater understanding of the world by viewing your art!" Sander's grin changed from malicious to joy instantly, and I could tell that my lie had worked. A good tour was just the thing Cassie needed to teach her a lesson, for nothing was creepier than Sander Cohen's "statues." Although, honestly, after so much time in Rapture, I was starting to appreciate Sander's art. One, it cleans up the bodies and almost recycles them, and two; they have a kind of… beauty to them. Hey, criticize me all you want, but Rapture can lower your expectations tremendously. I'm actually scared myself of how my morals are going to turn out…

"Alas, my good friend, I have no time for a tour today! I'm dedicating the afternoon ("How does he know what time it is?" I wonder.) to my piece de resistance, my precious Quadtych! But, I bet your Little Sister would love to see the process I go through to create my works of art! Come! Time is… is…" Sander's face began to contort with annoyance, then rage, as he forgot the conclusion of his "wise" saying. "Time is… is… time FREAKIN' IS…!!!"

"Money!" I interjected. "Time is money!"

Sander instantly settled down. "Ah, yes! Time is money! So hurry along!" How that quote related to the current situation, I wasn't sure. At least Bill always made sense… As we crossed the Atrium, I saw a large tank filled with some kind of white liquid, which I assume was melted plaster. Sander had shown me the procedure before, so I knew what to expect. The first time was rather shocking, but after so much time, I've become immune to the horrors.

I was walking at a rather slow pace, in part thanks to the shivering child atop my head, so Sander reached the tub ahead of me. Waiting patiently as I trudged up to him, he proclaimed, "Ah, my friend, you are like a beautiful bee, buzzing in the meadow! Not so graceful, but certainly has quite a sting! Ha ha!" Sander let out a hoot of laughter, glancing at me to see if I was laughing. Playing along, I let out a laugh too. You always have to be careful around Sander… "Alright, Little Sister." Sander turned back towards the melted plaster, and began his tutorial to plaster statue making. "The most crucial part of the procedure occurs even before here. When you kill a person, you will need to adjust their body quickly before rigor mortis sets in. When it does, and the body is fixed just right, voila! A perfect mold! I have a pre-prepared body right here, so that cuts the creation time in half!" Sure enough, as we walked around to the other side of the tub, was a dead male splicer, a young one in a football uniform from the looks of it. I mentally cringed. At least the younger splicers had some remorse… and perhaps the most humanity amongst the motley crew in Rapture…

"An angel!" Cassie had instantly perked up, leaping from atop my shoulders to the floor, giant needle in hand. Sander hadn't noticed, his full attention on the tank with his back turned to me and Cassie, and had continued on with his speech, explaining the process of dipping the splicer into the mold and letting it dry, forming the perfect statue.

"Cassie!" I was frantic! If she went and…

"I'm going to make you proud Mr. Bubbles!" To my horror, Cassie drove the needle into the corpse, at precisely the moment when Sander turned back towards his audience. It's times like these when I wonder if Cassie is as smart as I always picture her.

Sander stood there, mouth hanging open. I knew what was coming. "Sander, she's just a Little Sister…" I began, but my attempt was like cooling a volcano with a glass of water.

Sander exploded. "WHY YOU FRIKIN LITTLE SISTER, I'M GOING TO TEAR YOU UP AND FORCE FEED YOU," He marched over and grabbed Cassie around the collar, who was petrified with fear. "TO THE MOTHER FU…!!!" He proceeded no further, as I rammed into him with my whole body. He hit the wall on the opposite side of the Atrium. "I'LL TEACH YOU TO MESS WITH ME!" Sander's voice echoed throughout the Atrium. Disappearing in a purple smoke, all was silent for a moment. Cassie, unable to resist her Little Sister instincts, hurried back to the corpse and continued to suck out the Adam.

Thinking quickly, I glanced around the Atrium. There was a computer terminal, but it was too far away for me to contact Bill and protect Cassie simultaneously. A soft, pleasant, yet creepy, music began to fill the room; one of Sander's hit songs in Rapture. As the music played, I waited. I had the presence of mind to look up, where, much to my surprise, I saw a splicer dropping down upon me! Extending my hand upwards, I caught the splicer around the waist and flung him into the tub of plaster behind me. He screamed in agony, slowly burning to a crisp in the incredibly hot plaster. I never knew whether he burned to death, or if he drowned. Quite frankly, I didn't want to think about it. The next splicer wasn't as witty as his comrade, practically running into my spinning drill, blood splattering all over the place as a rough hole appeared where his intestines used to be. The next assault was a double team, a lead head firing from afar with her machine gun, and a thug running up and trying to take me out with a metal club. Shielding myself from the bullets with my arm, I used my drill to burrow into the thug's chest. Lifting the now dead splicer up, I spun him rapidly, creating a human shield. With a mighty heave, I threw the thug straight into the lead head, from whom I heard a loud snap. My guess is that it was either her spine or her neck. With a loud bang, I felt an explosion cause me to stumble a few steps forward. Turning, I saw a female nitro with a maniac grin on her face. Letting out a Big Daddy groan, I rushed her, the smile quickly dissipating. Connecting, the nitro was thrown backwards, tumbling violently till she came to a stop, and didn't move any more.

I had to end this. Grabbing the now deceased nitro, I raised the decibel of my voice high, and shouted, "Sander! Are you really going to let this body go to waste? It will be a great addition to your Quadtych!"

A puff of purple smoke appeared next to me, and Sander swiftly grabbed the corpse out of my hands. "You're right! A lovely specimen like this deserves to be made into a star!" Letting out a Big Daddy sigh, I left Sander to his work. This would be the… third time that has happened this month. Why do I bother to come back…?

"Mr. Bubbles! Look, look!" Cassie ran up to me smiling. "I got lots of Adam." I turned towards Cassie, a deep red shining from my face. "Um, Mr. Bubbles…?"

Counting slowly to ten, the light from slowly changed to custard yellow. I turned back towards Sander. "Sorry, but I really must be off. Things to do, you know."

"Very well." he replied, his eyes never leaving his work. "Enlighten me with your company sometime soon. You're always welcome!"

Leaving the Atrium, I had slowly drifted back to a light red as my thoughts got the better of me. Cassie was trailing behind. I didn't like being angry at a Little Sister. She couldn't help it. Letting out a moan, I needed to sit down. Lowering myself gingerly to the ground, I watched as Cassie walked up to me, with a worried look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Truly concerned, the little figure knelt beside me.

Such a sweet voice… counting to ten again, I succeeded this time in calming down, my light a lime green. "You really don't know?" She shook her head. I let out a Big Daddy sigh. "It's not just you Cassie… it feels like all the Little Sisters are the problem. I try my best to protect you, but it always seems as if you all cause the troubles yourselves."

Cassie, being Cassie, snapped back to her more analytical side. "That is incorrect. It's the splicers who put us in danger. We never provoke anyone."

"That's what I mean!" Cassie looked quizzically at me. "You say you don't do anything, but really the reason I need to protect you is all because of your natures." I tried to rub the bridge of my nose as a sign of stress, but I realized I didn't have one, not anymore. "When you got that Adam back there, were you even thinking about what you were doing?"

"Well…" Cassie stopped. Just what I thought. She didn't. "I needed to get that Adam Mr. Bubbles… It's very important!"

"What do you even do with it?!"

"I… I need to be a good girl, Mr. Bubbles…"

Frustrated that I was getting nowhere with her, my head emanated a dark yellow light, and I quickly got up and began to walk towards the nearest hidey-hole. "Cassie, you, of all Sisters, should realize that no one needs Adam! All it does is ruin you! I have to protect you while you do nothing! If it weren't for you going on a stabbing frenzy back in the Atrium, Sander wouldn't have attacked me!"

"But…"

"But nothing!" I grabbed Cassie by the collar of her dress and roughly shoved her into the hidey-hole, and left, not waiting to see her reaction. Although I could've sworn I heard a sob… Or was that sob from me?

It was sometime later before I finally cooled down.

Poor Cassie… I can't believe I yelled at her. She was only doing what she was supposed to do… but why does she have to do it? Of course I knew why. The cruel genetic manipulations that Suchong and his lackeys performed on what was once a little girl. There had to be some good reason why I'd yelled. I just need to figure it out before the got angry at the other Little Sisters. I leaned back, looking up. What greeted me was not the sky from my memories, but the metallic ceiling that was always above me. Looking down, I didn't see the flowery meadows I had once loved. Just the damn rusted iron that was always beneath my feet.

"Ah, my good friend!" I turned to see Sander walking up behind me. "I have enjoyed your companionship for quite sometime, and I have a present for you!" From behind his back Sander produced an Accu-Vox, the device which recorded audio-diaries. I'd seen them around, but I could never figure out how o use them. As if reading my thoughts, Sander gave a quick explanation. "You simply press the button which says 'REC' and then speak your mind! It's that simple!"

Taking the device gently from his hand, I murmured my thanks. "Thank you,I should say! That new body is working wonders for my Quadtych!" After a few more exchanges in pleasantries, I bid Sander farewell, who disappeared in a cloud off purple smoke.

I truly was thankful. There are just some things I can't tell Bill or Sander, but I can certainly admit to myself. Thinking for a moment, I pressed the REC button and herd a soft whine from the Accu-Vox. I started to begin, but stopped. What I was planning to say didn't nearly measure up to how I felt. So I kept the audio diary short and simple.

"Why?"

I set the Accu-Vox on the ground, and walked away. I think I'll create audio diaries more often… it's always nice to get something off your chest.

A little while later, a man picked up the audio diary. Clicking the play button, he listened. That monotone voice… he'd never heard it anywhere else in Rapture. Putting the device into his pocket for later listening, he continued on his way.

"Y'know… I think I know where that decency lies. It lies in the place no one would look, y'see? Those Big Daddies… they're selfless. Only lookin' out for there little ones, kinda like a real dad. I hate to say this, but if only we could all be a bit more like them…"

Bill McDonough

_So now I may start throwing in a few Drill audio diaries. It's always nice to have a character throw in his two cents. Hopefully this will give you a bit to chew on before the next chapter, which I will complete sometime. Please review. Please! _


	4. Richard

_Finally finished! I know what you're thinking; "Oh that darn author! It's been so long since his last update, his computer probably broke, or he suffered a catastrophic injury, and perhaps, being the generous and kind-hearted reader that I am, I should send him thousands in cash to help him along." Well, that's very kind of you, but I'm good. I just haven't had the time to work on this. Not that I'm saying that you shouldn't send me money. Feel free! Before I get started, I'd like to thank all the people who have reviewed my work for clearing up some confusing things in my works, for pointing out grammar errors, etc._

_Disclaimer: Do I need to put this on every chapter? Anyway, I still don't own Bioshock, just in case you didn't know._

_Update: Added poll information to bottom._

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When someone else gets da lemons? Well, just squeeze da juice outta them, throw them in the trash, and move onto the next poor sap. You'd be surprised at all the lemons Mother Nature has to give…"

Frank Fontaine

Slowly, and carefully, I started to lower the record onto the turntable. Between working with keyboards and patting Little Sisters on the head, my hands have become quite steady and I always seem to know just the right amount of pressure.

I vaguely remember Eve's Garden from back in the day. Always bustling and hopping, dancers kicking their feet up, singers letting out joyous tunes, the band playing its uplifting music, and me spending all my earnings on booze, and bonuses on girls who had too many articles of clothing on for my taste. I shivered at this last thought, practically dropping the record I held, and almost breaking it when re-tightening my grip. What I remembered of my old self was never pleasant.

Avoiding any more thoughts, I lowered the record completely on the turntable, and turned on the phonograph. The record began to spin, and I gingerly moved the arm onto the spinning disk, and sat down on a reinforced steel container I'd found in the back, most likely used for smuggling goods in from the surface. Finally catching, the phonograph emitted the soothing voice of Gene Kelly filled the air, a soothing voice accompanied by a violin and what I could've sworn was also a piano (The following is a real song; for the real version look up "halfway down the stairs Gene Kelly" on Google video or YouTube. Actually, it would be better if you do listen to the song, as it helps to set the tone.). I admit the faded furniture and cracked bottles of beer behind the bar weren't exactly the type of scenery that goes well with a tune like this, but I wasn't about to complain.

Halfway down the stairs is a stair where I sit.  
There isn't any other stair quite like it.  
I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top.  
So this is the stair where I always stop.

I gave a joyful moan at the small violin solo, which seemed to play the violin with my heartstrings.

Halfway up the stairs isn't up and isn't down.  
It isn't in the nursery, it isn't in the town.  
And all sorts of funny thoughts run round my head.  
It isn't really anywhere, it's somewhere else instead.

Removing the arm, I emitted a Big Daddy sigh. I dearly loved that song. Personally, I always felt at the bottom of the stairs, not in the town, but in the hell hole called Rapture.

I removed the record from the turn table, and put it back in my leather bag that I'd found on a dead splicer on one of my Little Sister outings, along with my other favorite songs. Hanging it on a nearby coat track, I thought how amazing it would be if I had a portable phonograph… like that would ever happen.

"Mr. Bubbles…!" I turned to see two Little Sister running towards me. They were easy to recognize, Kate and Ann, because they were the only two twins in the ranks. Both looked almost identical, with their deep orange hair and freckles, but Kate was slightly pudgier than Ann. As it was my off day, I hadn't expected to see them. Standing, I began to ask where their Big Daddy was, concerned, but couldn't get out a single word amidst their combined energy.

"We heard a noise!"

"And came over!"

"What was that Mr. Bubbles?"

"It was so wonderful!"

"We've never heard anything like it!"

"Whoa!" I interjected. I shouldn't have been surprised that the two weren't familiar with music, other than that which played throughout Rapture on the intercom. Lowering myself back onto the crate, I explained: "Ann, Kate, that was music."

"We know what music is!" Ann sarcastically rolled her eyes.

Kate pitched in, "We've just never heard music like that!"

"Whoa!" my voice rang again. Each seemed like a bundle of energy, exponentially increased in the presence of the other. Calming them once again, I restarted my lecture. "Music comes in many different types. There isn't just one song, one tune, one singe. The thing that makes music great is that there's something for everyone to pick! And what I consider to be the best part is that if the music you like is the same as someone else, you'd both be surprised at how close a bond can be formed." Another memory of my past life hazily drifted through my head, one of myself and some girl- heck I didn't even know her name- were engaging in… carnal activities in my old apartment to a jazz tune, which happened to be one of my favorites at the time. I shook the thought from my head. Why was I having so many memories returning to me? And why now?

But I knew why.

In my experiences, I have learned that anything you don't want to think about automatically springs into your head, and I most certainly don't want to think about my past.

I had forgotten that the twins were still there, in my moment of thought, and the sound of their voices brought me back to reality.

"WOW, Mr. Bubbles!" Kate's voice exclaimed, in an admiring fashion.

Ann elaborated. "You're so… smart, Mr. B! I never knew that there were other types of music!

Kate excitedly turned to her twin, and began to share her new-found knowledge. "My favorite song is 'Beyond the Sea!'"

"Oh my gosh, that's my favorite too! We must be bonding like Mr. B said!" They both squealed, and gave each other a hug. I couldn't help but give a small, inward chuckle. Of course that would be their favorite song, because that was the only song that played here. If either one had said that the 'Public Address System' was their favorite band, I would have fallen over laughing! But… I was still saddened over the loss of music. I doubt that splicers listen to music anymore, and the Little Sisters certainly don't fully appreciate it. Perhaps it is up to me, and possibly Sander and Bill, to preserve this universal language.

Turning my mind back to the problem at hand, I turned to the twins, still squealing, and asked, "Alright you two, I know you're having fun, but where's your Big Daddy?" The light from my head, previously a lime green from the music, had turned to a deep shade of mustard yellow. If even one of my comrades has fallen, I preferred to send them off with at least a little funeral.

Still in high spirits, Ann rolled her eyes once again. "O, our slowpoke Big Daddy wasn't moving fast enough!"

I winced, knowing how concerned a Big Daddy can be when a Sister runs away. I remember seeing a Big Daddy Rosie once who lost his (or her?) Sister, looking everywhere, never stopping. After searching all of Rapture without success, he set off along the ocean bottom. I never saw that Big Daddy again, but at least I was able to see him off before his long trek. A Daddy's got to admire that level of commitment…

Kate, sensing my emotional pain, quickly added, "We didn't go too far ahead. Just when we heard the music. He should be right behind us." As if on cue, an Elite Rosie Daddy trudged through the door of Eve's Garden, with a pale yellow streaming from the glass on his cranium. The light emanating from my own head became an evergreen green at my recognition of the Big Daddy. Giving a wave of my drill, I gave a small shout, "Well hello Richard! I believe these are yours?"

Giving a small jump of surprise at hearing his name, Richard returned my wave with his own, forgetting that the arm he was waving, his right, was the brutalized, mangled one he had had for so long.

* * *

Richard's story stretched back to Drill's earlier days as a Big Daddy. It had been a regular day, regular routine for both Drill and Richard. Both were bringing their Little Sisters through the Medical Pavilion; Drill with Maria, a Sister of Spanish descent, and Richard with Jill, the youngest, sweetest Little sister, perhaps even sweeter than Abby. Their paths happened to cross. If the day had proceeded as planned, a curt nod may have been exchanged between both parties and they would have continued on their way.

But someone was waiting.

Perhaps the only good plan a splicer had ever come up with, a thug had gotten his hands on an enrage plasmid, that, when used correctly, can be a deadly weapon. Upon crossing paths, the thug, a male splicer named Lewis who thought he was all the "enrage" (After making this pun repeatedly, he was soon beaten to death with frozen fish and fillet knives a few months later.) with the ladies, hit Drill with it. In one of the most horrid moments of his life, which Drill refuses to talk about to this day, let out a flash of red light from his helmet, roared only the way a Big Daddy could.

And slammed into Richard.

Drill would later describe the sensation as if "all of my problems, and the problems of the world, were caused by Richard, and that I could make all those problems disappear if I just killed him, murdered him, chopped him up into little pieces and gave him his just desserts."

Fully pinned to the ground, Richard could do nothing close range. All he did was stare back at the grotesque globe which was throwing every curse in existence at him, at the highest decibel possible. Drill proceeded to take his drill, whirling at an intense speed, and stabbed it into Richard's right arm, stabbing over, and over, and over again, Richard emitting the cry of a wounded sperm whale about to die, moaning in agony.

Of course, the thug wasn't planning to take down the Big Daddies. Oh no. While they were distracted, Maria and Jill were huddled together crying, scared at seeing their beloved Daddies killing each other, or at least one killing the other, completely oblivious to their surroundings, hearing only the screams of Drill in his enraged state. Walking nervously behind the two, as even thugs are intimidated by a cussing Big Daddy with a temper, he swiftly grabbed Jill around the neck. Backing away from this new shock, Maria attempted to shout, "Senor Bubbles!", but no sound came out. It was all too much for her. She ran, and Drill has never seen her since.

Taking out a pocket knife, Lewis, cut deeply into the Sister's stomach, reached in, face cringing from the feel of organs and other bodily fluids, and removed the slug. A wound like this would have healed easily for any other Little Sister, as it was a small incision, but no more did the little one have the slug. Being so young, Jill died quickly, bleeding profusely.

Back in the fight, Drill was about to decimate Richard's other arm when the effects of enrage wore off. His head cleared of all the previous anger, his helmet's light from the red back to a pea green. For a few moments, all was silent. Then it all hit Drill at once.

He stared at the Elite Rosie, horrified at the acts he committed. Turning around, Drill saw only the dead body of Jill, Maria nowhere to be found. Drill attempted to apologize to Richard, make some sort of amends, but when he turned to face him, the Big Daddy had already fled. Drill was left alone, and it took weeks to recover. Drill barely made it through his extreme depression.

Around 13 months after the incident, Drill was on maintenance duty, called on by Ryan to handle a leak in the Farmer's Market. To assist him, another Big Daddy was going to rendezvous with him, as the leak was of a serious sort.

What were the chances that Drill would see that mangled arm again?

Both parties were surprised, and made surprisingly quick amends, both to their relations and the leak. The two became more than associates, but friends as well. The name Richard? It was a spur of the moment decision actually. After going through several names with his new friend, Drill finally suggested it. Richard seemed to like it very much. Unbeknownst to Drill, that had been Richard's name before becoming a Big Daddy, though neither would ever know.

"No hard feelings, right?" Richard shook his head. Drill noticed that Richards right hand had been completely chopped off. "How have you been able to survive Rapture without being able to hold your rivet gun properly?" Immediately, Richard hoisted the gun that had been hanging limply from his left hand. In amazement, Drill watched as Richard used his mangled arm to gingerly tap the gun three times. A clumsy made, heavy wait tripod, attached by what appeared to be a vault door hinge hinge, folded down from the gun almost at the tip of the barrel. Aiming at a nearby pottery stand, Richard let loose a succession of five bullets. Each, found their marks, pots that were, at a minimum, a foot apart from each other. About to comment, Drill remained silent as Richard lifted the rivet gun up with amazing strength and agility and slammed it onto the floor in a different direction, and skewered five poultry's with one bullet apiece. Lifting the gun upward at a 90 degree angle, Richard let gravity put the tripod back into its previous position, latching onto a small hook. Turning back to Drill, Richard's helmet beamed a grass green light of happiness. Drill, speechless, had his own light a deep green, flickering on and off in amazement.

Regaining his composure, Drill turned towards his companion, and said, "Do you think you could teach me how to do that?"

* * *

Richard saw the twins jabbering excitedly besides me, and let out a Big Daddy moan of joy. Doing a small trot, Richard came besides the Little Sisters, giving each a pat on the head, putting his rivet gun down to do so.

Approaching him, I asked, "Richard?" He turned towards me. "If you don't mind, could you drop off these two a bit early and give me some practice lessons?" Richard responded with a curt nod, and left with the Little Sisters, still discussing music, to deposit them at the nearest hidey-hole. I left for the atrium, which was where we would meet up.

"And so I thought, 'If they said the public announce system was their favorite band, I would fall down laughing!" Richard gave a light hearted moan, which I knew was a laugh. We had reached Sander's domain, so I gave a loud shout, "Sander! You there!? Me and Richard are here!"

With a puff of purple smoke, the tuxedo figure appeared in front of us, his huge grin spreading across his face in a maniac fashion. "Ah, my precious bumble bee has returned, along with one of his companions!" Sander clapped his hands together. "Have you come to see my Quadtych? It's finally finished, I only need the pictures that the figures are supposed to hold!"

Richard gave me a sideways glance, light a deep yellow. I nodded in return. We both had that creepy feeling whenever Sander went into his art. Clearing my throat, only to realize I didn't have a throat, not anymore, and replied, "Sorry. Although I do adore your art…"

"That's what my disciples said before they all betrayed me." Sander hissed, eyes narrowed.

Good thing Sander couldn't see me sweating. "Oh, no! I'm completely serious!" This answer was good enough for Sander, who returned to his smiling, freaky self. "Richard and I actually came for those practice targets… you know, the statues you made for our target practice?"

Sander waved his hand in a relaxed manner. "Of course! Do you have the payment?"

"As you just said, 'Of course'. Bill!" At that, one of Bill's security drones flew in, propeller whirring as it toted a crossbow via rope. Lowering the crossbow carefully into his waiting hands, Bill brought up a message on the attached screen, mounted on the front. It read; _I believe I speak for the three of us when I inquire, what is it you need a crossbow for? Haven't you already attained a deadly fighting style concerning your fiery hands? _Bill sparked my curiosity. What did Sander need the crossbow for?

Sander's smile grew wider. I suspect the man prefers all attention to be on him, at this question certainly has attracted my attention. "Well…" Oh boy. When he begins with "well," the explanation always takes a lot longer than it should. "The crossbow isn't actually for me. It's a gift for a new… associate of mine." Glancing at his watch- which never actually worked- Sander cut his explanation short. "I must be off! The targets are over in the corner!" Pointing, me and Richard followed the direction his finger and found ten targets, sloppily laid on three luggage carts, the type you would find in any hotel. "Ta-Ta!" And with a soft poof, and a cloud of smoke, Sander was gone.

"Well…" I turned back towards the luggage carts. The bodies barely fit, and they would have tumbled over, white plaster smashing on the ground, if it weren't for how tightly they were packed in. But I didn't need to be a math wiz to figure out what was wrong with this situation. Three baggage carts, two of us. One of us could use two hands, if only either of us had two hands. All I had was a drill, and Richard was now… left-handed, per-say. I turned towards Richard. "Sorry, looks like we can't take all the dummies. You grab the one with three, and I'll take the one with four." Richard groaned in agreement.

We wheeled the two carts out of the atrium, and onto the bathysphere. Our destination was the education area. A small part of Rapture, it was probably the one place in Rapture where there were no splicers. Believe me, it was small. I vaguely remember it was used for educating the children, and I think teens. With many classrooms, a gymnasium, a library, it was an efficient school. Until it was shut down when Ryan declared its teachings to be "that of parasites." So except for a few education fanatics, the area was completely sealed off, impossible to get to. That is unless you had Bill on your side. What a great…um…computer. About the third day of us becoming acquainted, all Bill said (or typed) was; _Hey Drill. I've got something to show you… :-} _

In a space of twenty three minutes, we'd set up the target range. Actually, it was Richard who set it up. I watched. I don't know if Richard was some kind of accuracy instructor or something, but he always seemed to know what he was doing. If in fact he did teach other Big Daddies, perhaps that's why he was so willing to help me with my gun? It certainly explains the extra awareness, how he would need to actually think in order to teach other Rosie's.

Richard tapped me on the shoulder. I looked at today's training setup. We were in the gymnasium, which was rather large for a school. The room was rather plain, actually. There was some fading team banners mounted on the walls. There was a single set of bleachers shoved into a corner, with a pile of folding chairs beside it in a pile. Since this place was shut down before everything went downhill, there was little destruction and debris strewn about. It seemed rather creepy. Because the seven targets were so far apart, and quite a distance from me, I could tell today was a routine sniping exercise.

Truth be told, I'm not sure what I'll use a rivet gun for, but it could always come in handy. Richard pointed to one of the targets set up on the bleachers, a young woman whose garments seemed a suitable size to blow one's nose with. Probably some sort of prostitute. I'd enjoy shooting the head off of something I used to indulge in regularly… funny how now, after all this, I look back and see a different person… Picking up the massive gun that laid besides me, I tapped it three times with my drill. The tripod fell down, which Richard installed himself. How he managed it with that massive hand- singular, keep in mind- is beyond me. Practice, perhaps? Setting the tripod on the ground, hand on the trigger, I aimed for my target.

Richard let out a Big Daddy sigh. "I already adjusted my stance, Richard! Now let me concentrate!" He moaned. "C'mon, I've done this exercise plenty of times! Only one bullet at a time." I lined up the shot, and tapped the trigger. If Richard can fire one shot at a time with his meaty hands, then so can I! I mean, I have handled records before, right? Pausing a moment, I let out a cheer. The shot hit him in the target in the arm! Richard slapped me on the head. The other shot I'd fired had completely missed. Damn, I should have gotten the hang of this by now... Also, unlike other Rosie's (falling back to my original theory of being some sort of accuracy trainer), Richard believed in wasting not a single bullet. Most Rosie's I'd seen were more… trigger happy.

Richard took aim himself, and let loose three bullets. One hit her right breast, one hit her left breast, and the third hit hard in her forehead, causing the target to fall backwards. I let out a Big Daddy moan to show how impressed I was, while Richard let out a Big Daddy sigh. That one target took some work to get up there, as Daddies weren't meant for bleachers, and he'd be the one to set it back up.

Pointing to the next target, on the opposite side of the gym in the corner, I readied my shot. It seemed to be an elderly splicer, but he was ripped. I believe he spent plenty of time in the gym. Thug variety, perhaps…? I taped the trigger, even lighter this time. The sound of the shot reverberated through the gym, and to my surprise, the bullet hit the splicer right where the heart should be. I was aiming for the head, but that works too.

Richard let out a sigh of relief, as my track record hadn't been too good lately. He began to point towards another target when a voice rang out, seemingly from nowhere, yet everywhere at once; "Oh, I just love seeing a teacher- student relationship bloom like that. I prefer my faculty to bond well with those they are teaching."

"What the…" I began glancing around, but to no avail, the light emanating from my head on the border between red and yellow. The most I could figure out was that the speaker was female, but how in Rapture will that help? Beside me, Richard's own light was a deep yellow. He readied his own rivet gun, giving the barrel three taps, and the tripod fell into place.

"Now, now…" the voice cackled, quite maniacally. "I don't want to see any of that behavior, even in gym class. Now, you without the voice, Mr. Rosie, what's two times three?" Richard let out a moan of confusion. Six shots rang out, and a moment later Richard was hit with six pistol shots. I chuckled on the inside. A pistol? Really?

"Look, whoever you are, give it up!" I shouted. No response. I was hoping a talking Big Daddy would've freaked her out, despite my lame threat. Richard glanced over at me uncertainly. I replied with a comment, "Richard, did you even feel anything? It was just a freaking pistol, come on." That's when it hit me. I don't mean when you suddenly realize something, I mean when something literally hits you. I felt a powerful explosion hit me in the shoulder, knocking me back a few steps, and also leaving me in shock. I mean… holy crap! The psycho shot a freakin' bazooka at me!

"I will accept no side chatter in my class, Mr. Bouncer! Now, inform the class; what is nine minus four?"

"Um… five?"

"… Correct. Mr. Rosie, back to you. What is one times one?"

Richard moaned a response, but it was obvious how this… teacher was taking advantage of his inability to talk. "Richard!" He turned to me. "Use your hands! You know, your fingers!" Richard's helmet light flickered green for a moment, and he turned away, holding up one of his huge fingers.

The voice was becoming annoyed. Whether it was because she was a spliced up mess or we were getting too many answers right, I wasn't sure. "That's right, but what is one plus ten?" Richard examined his fingers in confusion, realizing he just didn't have enough. In a gleeful voice, the woman shouted, "Wrong!" Eleven proximity mines dropped from the ceiling. I looked up. I didn't pay attention to the proximity mines, but the source. There seemed to be a collection of support beams forming somewhat of a walkway all across the ceiling. Moving slowly along the beams was a shadowy figure, weighed down by the most weapons I'd ever seen in one place.

A hurried glance back at Richard ended only in a look of horror. He was completely surrounded by proximity mines, in what seemed to be a rough oval. From… experience, I can attest that just a few proximity mines can be a killer, and can really give a Big Daddy a nasty headache. Basically, Richard was trapped in place, unable to move. The only positive thing was that the mines were at a distance where their explosion wouldn't inflict full damage. As long as Richard stayed in almost the dead center.

"Damn it…" I leveled my rivet gun at the moving target, trying to get a good shot. However, the splicer was at a high angle, meaning I couldn't use my tripod. And with only my drill to hold the gun up, my accuracy would be way off. I let out a burst from my gun! …and watched as it sailed right over the figures head.

She let out a laugh. "Nice shot! You practically managed to fire it vaguely in my direction!" And off she went speeding up her pace, a slow trot across the beams which, though still slow, meant I had even less accuracy! Fabulous, we were freakin' ducks in open water!

I heard Richard let out a Big Daddy moan. I turned to him, wincing as a shotgun round glanced off my shoulder, and a second one following hitting the ground beside me. He motioned with his hand. He wanted me to throw it to him. "You want me to throw it? If I miss, I'll hit the mines." He nodded. Crazy Big Daddy…

I threw, the gun tumbling through the air, spinning, heading towards Richard in an arc, all the while machine gun bullets raining down on me...

It seemed like he'd done it all before. Gracefully, kind of, Richard caught the rivet gun by the barrel. Tossing the gun lightly in the air, that second gave him a chance to shift his good hand into the trigger. The splicer stopped for a moment, readying her rocket launcher for the kill. As she removed the shell from a large tote bag she had hanging loosely from her arm. In that moment, Richard swung the gun upwards, and he, I swear, fired mid swing. And it hit the shell.

The explosion was no larger than as if the rocket launcher had actually been fired at the splicer, her body engulfed in the explosion. However, the splicer was also carrying several guns, more shells, proximity mines, and a chemical thrower. The explosion started small, but a large one followed swiftly after, and made, if I do say so myself, quite the fireworks show. As the body was torn apart from the explosion, the chemical thrower froze some sections, lit some on fire (that weren't already), and electrocuted others.

Quite the spectacle.

"Nice shooting Richard!" I turned back towards him. He replied with some kind of a wave, which was interrupted by a piece of debris hitting one of the proximity mines.

Richard looked down, and then back at me, light a deep green.

The proximity mines around him all exploded, triggered by the one next to it.

_Are u sure that Richard will be safe 4 now? _In rough shape, Bill had locked down one of the apartments, put a couple of drones in front of it, and given his vow to protect Richard till he got better… if he got better. Truth be told, he was at the critical point. It had been a miracle he hadn't died on the spot, but from the way Bill reported his condition, seemed he had little more than a month before all the fluids from the tank on his back emptied from the numerous new leaks.

_Affirmative. Though I don't see why anyone would wish to attack a Big Daddy. There would be little to gain except for maybe some money. Why you Big Daddies carry cash, I'll never know. D: _Though he and I never really brought it up, we both knew that Richard was going to die in the end. Out of all the challenges I'd faced, it made a daddy feel so… helpless. It seems time is my only worthy opponent right now. What frightens me most is knowing that I'll never win. And when I think about Richard, I start to think. What will happen to us? All of Rapture? Surely, we won't stay undiscovered forever.

_Bill… Please just do this. Let's just say that I... _I paused to think for a moment before continuing. _Need some time alone with Richard. Just leave it at that._

"I find it funny- not funny ha-ha, funny weird- that as a person ages, they say they're running out of time, their life is coming to a close, and they want to do something full filling with their lives. Then, they do nothing. Whenever free time comes around, they watch their favorite soap, play a pointless game. While there time is ticking away, I have to wonder; can Big Daddies die?"

Drill

_And that's it. Drill's final comment in the audio diary is more of a reflection on me. I'm always complaining about not having the time to work on this, but when I do have the time, usually I spend it relaxing or just not working on this. That's why I'm deciding to take a hiatus (Okay, stop crying!), at least until summer comes around and school gets out. It's way too stressful trying to fit in my fan fiction work, and I feel as though the quality of my work suffers because of it. For example, I'm not at all satisfied with how this chapter came out. So, a little break will do me good. Anyway, please comment and review as always. Keep in mind; I'm never too busy to look at reviews. And one more thing; this fan ficI categorized as a Horror/Adventure. That doesn't suit it at all. So, I'm asking for some suggestions (drama/angst? I don't know.), and they would be greatly appreciated. To voice your opinion, head to my profile. There will be a poll there, so just vote for your preference(wow... was the poll even necessary?). Thank you.  
_


	5. Drone

_What's this? Could it be… a chapter?! Anyway, hello! I know, all of you have been suffering since my last chapter (all 5of you), and you've all probably been sitting in front of your computers the whole time, waiting for the day I update. Well, maybe not. Now that summers here, I've more time to donate to this story, and hopefully I can make it a good read for all of you. And let me clarify my statement from last chapter in that I may have aid I was going to continue writing when summer hit, but that doesn't mean that I had to start writing immediately… Last thing. There are some perspective changes in this chapter, so I labeled each section, and, as usual, the part that looks into the past is separated by those thin, grey lines. So, let's begin. Well after the…_

_Disclaimer: Of course. I do not own Bioshock, or anything else mentioned in this fan fic. If I did, I'd end up doing something stupid with the game, like throw in mana points, or give myself a cameo as a boss (Fear the wrath of Super Rather Homely! Injected with a custom plasmid, he can eat cheesecake without gaining weight!)._

_Update: Fixed typos and changed every part of the story where I completely forgot (don't ask me how) that Drill has only one hand. I mean, his name's Drill! How the heck can I forgot that that someone named Drill has a giant Drill for a hand!? My thanks to Lord Genesis Shadow for pointing that out.  
_

"Why do I tolerate parasites in my world, one may ask? Well, much like their counterpart, parasites are small, blind, and unaware of their surroundings or of what they're doing, no grasp whatsoever of the big picture, and absolutely no morality, only wanting to infect, kill, and repeat. As long as you can get the parasite to needle its way into the enemy, it'll be too busy to attack anything else."

-Andrew Ryan

Drill

_The point is, my idea could revolutionize music, Drill. Think; anywhere you go, you can bring with you a lightweight device that plays music, like a record player, except more compact! _Lately, I've noticed Bill getting into dreaming up inventions. From what he's informed me, his new sentience, combined with encyclopedia knowledge, tireless work ethic, and a hard drive the can calculate billions of possibility, he could come up with more patents in a year then mankind could come up with in thirty. I think he's still underestimating human ingenuity and determination, but still, Bill sounds convincing enough.

Carefully, and painfully slow, I replied, _C'mon Bill. No way can you make something you can just carry around. How would it get power?_

_Ah, now there's the catch. I have been running through different possibilities, but most common day fuels require large amounts, and it's hard to listen to music when you're toting around a large canister of oil._

I gave a chuckle, which I imagine Bill saw, since he has more eyes around Rapture then there are people in China. Currently, I was in Arcadia, numerous trees and plants on all sides. Right behind a nearby tree was Mira, an eight-year old Little Sister, who was currently, err, attending to private business, I shall say. A quick log in to the computer was all I needed to see how Bill was doing.

Out around the tree came a smiling, and now relieved, Mira. "C'mon, Mr. B! Let's find some angels! It's not like their going to just sit there waiting for us!"

Being a Big Daddy, I couldn't actually give a snort of laughter, which was fine enough since the Little Sister wouldn't get the reference. I turned back to the terminal to find a new message from Bill; _Leaving so soon, Drill? (:-(_

_Sry, G2G :-/_

_In that case… I have a favor to ask. XD_

So, Mira and I began our quest for corpses to plunder, with our special guest right behind us.

"So," I said, still plodding along with Mira. "Bill, how long have you been working on this pet project?"

Flying behind us, with an annoying whir from its rotors, was a security drone, or more correctly, Bill.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Drill, Bill's emergence from servitude to sentience had major effects on the computer. Here he was, a supreme being, kept caged in an electronic prison, his sight restricted to his cameras, his ears were key boards, and his voice was a screen. Movement? Remote control of security drones at best. Purpose? What kind of a life involves only killing?

Bill envied Drill, and wished to become more… human.

An odd idea, yes, but who else embodied a free spirit, one that could wander and adventure, discovering new secrets? Humans were truly fascinating, lucky creatures in his eyes, err, lenses.

So, for a long time, Bill thought. He pondered, he considered, mulling over the numerous inventions he'd come up with. If he had the knowledge of the every increasing technological achievement on the planet's surface, perhaps we'd have walking robots today. However, Bill was just a computer, so he needed to work with what he had.

Bill took things one at a time.

First, he addressed the problem that concerned him the most, in that he was stuck in Rapture's hard drive. That was an easy problem to fix. Each security drone was controlled by Bill all at once. If he wanted to feel like an individual, Bill couldn't live in the shells of many creatures. Instead, Bill treated each Drone as an individual, a separate entity. Bill copied himself, and inserted each piece into each separate drone. When completed, each drone would be, well, Bill. Each would think like Bill, act like Bill, and actually be Bill. And at the end of the day, each drone would report back to the father computer, and share their memories.

Next, Bill looked into the difficulty surrounding speech. Each drone could never support both a screen and key board, and keyboards weren't the right direction to go, anyway. Bill finally decided to work on a voice recognition program. The primary difficulty being that he understood text. Not sound. For more than a year, Bill spent 2 hours a day with Drill, connecting sounds with the words already in Bill's databank. Being that he had 7 different dictionaries and encyclopedias encoded in his memory (and that contained only the English language), it took a long time.

_Honestly, Bill. Why are we doing this!? /:-(_

_It's… a surprise. Trust me; it'll be worth it in the end. Now, what does the word, "gangrene", sound like? 0:-)_

Playing along, day after day Drill would repeat words into the attached microphone, and the fateful day came when, finally, they finished the z section.

Drill still had no clue what Bill was up to. Maybe he was just curious about how words sounded. Who could tell with Bill? What Bill was actually planned was quite ingenious, or in his eyes, err, hardware it was. As Bill could already form simple to complex sentences, the main difficulty with speech was that, as a computer, Bill had absolutely no clue what anything sounded like. Even a computer can't grasp the basics of grammar, speech, and the many ins and outs of the English language, with its entire silent letters, and the rules with their exceptions. Not only that, but each individual has their own accent and style when speaking. How could Bill contend with all this data? He lacked the computer power to bend with each individual voice. Thankfully, Bill knew he would be talking entirely with his best friend Drill. As those who've read the prologue and chapter 1 know, when Drill speaks, he doesn't have a normal, human voice. Because of the damage inflicted on his vocal cords, Drill speaks in a monotone, computer-like, and, most importantly, consistent tone of voice. This consistency guaranteed that no matter what the situation, Bill could always interpret with ease what Drill was saying.

Bill would also be hitting two rocks with one stone. Now that Bill knew how every word was pronounced, he not only understood the words, but could also replicate them. Sure, it would be using the exact same voice as Drill, which could get confusing, but a little tampering with the pitch and that wouldn't be a problem.

And with that, Bill had achieved all he'd set out to do. He figured out how to think on a smaller scale, as an individual rather than a network. He'd discovered how to obtain the ability to move. And he had mastered (kind of) the ability of speech. All he needed to do was, well, test it out.

_Leaving so soon, Drill? (:-(_

_Sry, G2G :-/_

_In that case… I have a favor to ask. XD_

_

* * *

_Bill

Finally. Today is the day. After all my work, all this time, I can finally, I don't know, be somebody! Not just this… thing.

_Just wait a moment. _This next line I've wanted to say forever. _I'm coming with you. :-)_

Drill stood in front of the monitor for a moment. He wasn't as shocked as I'd hoped. Probably assumed I'd just send a security drone out to accompany him. That was true but… this would be a bit different than anything I'd done before.

Let's see… download is almost complete, and the drone is almost operational. All the hardware has been copied, personality uploaded. All that's left is the copying of my memory to the hard drive. And I don't mean just programs, I mean the actual memories I've had, of all the good times me and Drill have had, and… umm… wow, is that really all the good memories I can muster? Well, there will be plenty of time to make more memories later.

Yes! Memory finished copying in 5… 4… this is going to be great... 3… 2 … Here it goes! … 1…

…Nothing happened. Well, who am I kidding, of course nothing happened!

One of the security cams picked up a security drone, looking around in confusion for a moment, then wriggling in what seemed to be joy, then flying off to Drill's location.

As much I'd love to go on the "adventure" or whatever myself, someone had to look after the security of Rapture. And that someone is me. Alas, woe is the computer stuck in his digital cage…

Till Bill Jr. returns, nothing's changed…

Let's see… download is almost complete, and the drone is almost operational. All the hardware has been copied, personality uploaded. All that's left is the copying of my memory to the hard drive. And I don't mean just programs, I mean the actual memories I've had, of all the good times me and Drill have had, and… umm… wow, is that really all the good memories I can muster. Well, there will be time to make more memories later.

Yes! Memory finished copying in 5… 4… this is going to be great... 3… 2 … Here it goes! … 1…

Holy crap!

How to describe the feeling? In but a second's time, I go from having eyes all over the city to having… one eye? Seriously? Such limited vision… But now that I had but a single eye, I could pay more attention to details. Of course, I have no clue what my surroundings are called. How could I forget! I knew how words were pronounced, but I didn't know what they looked like. Heck, I can't even name colors. Well… I can always get… um… Bill Sr. to fix that.

My next task was to find Drill, so I began to fly towards… wait. This knew feeling… I've moved a drone before but this knew feeling… I was moving! What an incredible sensation! I'm free! FREE! I couldn't help but squirm with excitement, speeding off towards Drill, doing loop-de-loops out of sheer joy!

"This is amazing!" Hold on. Did I just speak? Well I technically produced a sound through the microphone welded on to the security drone, or should I say my new body, but still… Wow!"

I finally got hold of myself, remembering that there was a Drill to find, and I began to hurry towards my destination, noticing how the security cameras, or should I say my old eyes, were paying close attention to me. In all honesty, I was embarrassed to find I was unfamiliar with my surroundings. Sure, I'd seen Rapture all my life, but that was from one perspective. But, learning my way around would merely add to my new existence, not hinder it!

Flying along, the steady hum of my rotor filled the empty hallways of rapture, and produced a soft buzzing noise, interrupted on few occasions by the echoing cries and screams of the survivors of New Years Eve, and I was relieved when Drill entered my view, waiting patiently by the computer terminal he was still expecting a response from.

Drill saw me too, and he must have noticed the lack of keyboard on the drone that was about to accompany him, since he turned back to the computer and began typing. I never really noticed it before, but Drill must have put in many hours of practice with those meaty hand and drill of his to type quickly, yet still maintaining perfect grammar (Well mostly, not counting lingo and program I designed that I call "writing-fixer"… though spell-checker is a catchier title now that I've input some thought into the subject…). Moving into a position where I could view the screen, I wasn't surprised to find the question; _Bill? How in the world are we going to communicate if there's no keyboard? You're not __that __desperate to accompany me as to send a faceless drone after me are you? :-( _The response; _Ask the drone yourself, Drill. You should know by now things aren't always as they appear with me. ;-)_

Was he talking about me? Right. This should be a… enjoyable pleasure. Aw, who am I kidding? I'm going to just love to see the color that Drill emanates! "Drill, if I'm going to talk from now on, not only do I not need a keyboard, but it reduces weight, and microphones are deceivingly heavy." I had adjusted my voice to be a higher pitch than Drill's, so as to differentiate our voices, and it turned out well.

Drill looked stunned. He'd taken a step back, thankfully not into the computer, and the light in his bulbous head flickered from green to yellow, with a flicker now and then of red, a three color rainbow. Muttering at a low decibel that I couldn't quite catch, Drill turned back to the computer.

"There's really no need for that. I hope you realize that I am Bill."

Turning back to me, Drill's face was red, quite literally. "God damn it, Bill! What's going on!?"

"I have become a separate entity from the other me."

"You mean… wait, you can't possibly be saying that you're both in the network and in the drone? No, you've have to be linked to the network."

"Nope. I'm completely different. My friend, I am free."

"… Well, you said you were going to join me and Mira. Let's start walking. Or in your case, flying." Sure enough, we began to patrol the corridors, a rather peculiar threesome; a small demented girl, a lumbering giant, and a mini-helicopter. Already I was becoming more attuned to my surroundings, able to identify certain words in my vocabulary with objects strewn throughout Rapture. Soon, I could sense that Drill was uneasy, and a little later finally asked me how I achieved this new independence. "So, Bill, how long have you been working on this pet project?"

I proceeded to explain, in great detail, my long and intricate plans and motivations. The length of my explanation was rather, as a human would phrase, long winded. By the time I'd finished, Drill had dropped his Little Sister off, (Mira was it?) and listened till it was almost time to pick up a second Little Sister.

"Drill?"

"Bill, no offense, but you just love to talk? I admit, it does fill the lonely hours, but remember to let me get a word in too.

"My apologies. I was just going to ask… Perhaps I could continue to accompany you?"

Drill tramped over to the nearest hidey-hole, and gave it a good knock. Turning back to me, there was an amused glint in that helmet of his, a friendly pea green. "Bill, you're your own person. You can do whatever you want! Tell me…" He turned back to the hidey-hole and raised the decibel of his voice for a moment. "Rise and shine, sleepy Sister! You don't want to miss an outing with your favorite Daddy, now, do you?" He turned back to me again. "Tell me… what would you do if you were still part of the network?"

The question seemed simple enough. "Well, if you stopped communicating with me, I'd keep a close eye out on all cameras for splicers, specifically those who could pose trouble to important facilities. I'd keep an extra camera lens, or as you call it "eye", on the Big Daddy's, and an even closer eye on you. Then, I'd send out bots as necessary. Why?"

About to answer, Drill was interrupted by his fan girl, Rachel. Rachel is, as described based on the numerous hours of surveillance footage I posses of her, obsessed with Drill, mostly in how he talks. She adores him, and worships his supposed godliness among Big Daddies. The natural attraction of a Sister to a Daddy doesn't help, either. Though Drill tries to love every Little Sister, with perhaps the exception of Lily the brat, but Rachel constantly tests his patience. In all honesty, I think it's amusing to watch.

Being that my voice recognition was limited to Drill, I only heard some odd drabble from Rachel. It was from Drill's responses that I could grasp the content of the conversation; "Hey, Rachel, I'm happy to see you too." That statement seemed forced to me, and the puny figure let out another stream of noise. "All answer you in a moment, just wait for me to finish talking to my friend over here." Another bit of babble. Drill let out a long, Big Daddy sigh. "Rachel, I will answer your questions, just not now. Don't you have some angels to find?" Rachel let out what I guessed was a gasp. She sounded like a fish gasping for air, and set off in a run, for who knows where. "Don't run, damn it!"

Rachel, returning to the two of us, began our trek for corpses. Drill finally returned to his original point. "So, let's see… all you could do would be monitoring Rapture. And that's it?"

"Yes. Not many options, I know…"

The child let off a collection of fresh new babble, a more excited amount than before. Another sigh emanated from Drill. "I'll explain how the floating thing is talking, also, just wait." His attention returned to me. "So, just one option? Now, tell me what you could do, now that you're… well, yourself."

Here I hesitated. Though I'd longed to be free from my digital prison, I'd never thought so far ahead to when it actually happened… "I suppose I could… talk to you, and, um, (Did I really say um? The supercomputer?) go patrol for trouble…?" The Little Sister was still gazing at me in amazement; completely ignoring a dead body as we walked by, and Drill shook his head.

"That's only two things you could do. Bill, you've got to take advantage of this new freedom before you. As a former human, I can tell you how much our race takes advantage of the ability to do anything. Sure you have some limitations, but other wise you can do so much! You can explore the corridors of Rapture! Hunt down splicers for sport! Heck, they deserve it! You could play games with other drones, once they reach sentience! And that's just the stuff you can immediately do. If somehow, you invent the technology to give yourself arms, the possibilities skyrocket! Imagine painting, inventing, fixing, creating! I probably didn't even cover even a fraction of what you could do, not even the teeniest percent! Bill… this whole world is yours for the taking. And you have the choice to do whatever you want. Anything. Follow me if you want. Do something else if you want. I'd love it if you came along. But remember it's all up to you."

It was finally dawning on me… this incredible wonderment, the true reason that I'd never had known existed. Like Drill said, I could do anything now. I could, I don't know, own a restaurant! Even better, I could cook! Sure there was no one to feed, and sure, I probably won't follow up on it, but the important part is I could do it if I wanted to! And no one can stop me! Oh, the glorious revelation! Oh, the…!

The security section of my body dinged. Bill Sr., still connected in the security aspect, had just sent me a splicer report, apparently urgent. To think, I had the choice to ignore it, and not a single person could change that fact! The splicer party was apparently located…

… Here?!

A horrific scream echoed off the walls as an axe wielding splicer jumped out of the shadows landing a blow on Drill's back, thankfully a harmless hit. A spurt of gunfire came from three other splicers, also emerging from the shadows, one with a Tommy and four with pistols, not to mention a spider on the ceiling who looked incredibly disoriented. He'd (Or she? Too disfigured to tell.) probably kill herself without Drill's help. All I could hope for was… Wait. I am a security drone. I have guns. I could probably kick ass if I wanted too. Which I will!

With that last thought, I dove into the fight. While Drill had easily pinned a pistol wielding splicer to a wall, and was busy painting it red, which I'm sure Sander would have appreciated, he was still being hammered by the other splicers. Rachel was hidden by a lone orange carton, too close to the Tommy gun splicer for comfort. Swooping into the mayhem, the splicers ignored me at first, but I quickly got their attention with the rattling of the gun I was toting.

"C'mon, you pansies!" I was fearless! I swerved through the splicer group that was out to get my head, dodging gunfire, axe swings, and general harm. Finishing the Tommy splicer with a bullet through the head, I took note of Drill taking down another pistol-holder.

That's when I received an ugly whack from an axe! Sparks flew from me, accompanied by my electronic scream. Sure, I had no pain receptors, but I had a pretty good feeling that this would be considered painful. The power in my rotors shut down from damage, or possibly a cut cable, I wasn't sure. I fell like a brick, hitting the ground with a sharp clang. I then experienced an odd feeling like… inevitable doom? I'd never considered what would happen to me if I was… destroyed.

I could thank the lord, however (I was programmed by Roman Catholics) that Bill Sr. had already sent out a squad of security drones. Around six of them had just arrived, and the splicers knew they were defeated. Thusly, the splicers took the only logical course of action- they started attacking the drones! I'm sorry, but am I the only one who sees the horrible logic in that? Needless to say, the splicers began to get mowed down by a barrage of bullets.

Watching the fight, I was caught off guard when the hand of a gentle giant plucked me off the ground. Drill turned my robotic body to see him, and I was further surprised by the ugly red that shined from his head. We had won, right? His anger puzzled me…

"What the frick do you think you're doing!?" The loud decibel was piercing to my microphone, and the words were barely comprehendible at that intensity. "You could have died! What, do you think you're bloody John Wayne?! That was three splicers you were taking on, and you aren't exactly a freakin' Big Daddy, are you?!"

My near death experience had somehow… alarmed Drill. To alleviate his pains, I said to him, "Drill, I admit I was a bit reckless, persay…" calmed back down to a mustard yellow color, Drill set me on the floor, propped against a trashcan that was overflowing with assorted trash garbage. "But remember that Bill Sr. can just download my memory into another drone."

The light emanating from that big globe shifted to a very odd shade of green, to the point where- wait, blue? Isn't that a sad color? "Bill… enlighten me, if you're destroyed, how will the other you get your smashed, obliterated, crushed memory into another droid?"

"Well… I suppose he, or I wouldn't be able to…"

"Bill! Don't say 'I'! You aren't part of the big security system now! You may be free, but with that freedom, you have but one life to give."

"Wait… But Bill Sr. can make another drone…" So… confused…

"No Bill. Bill can create a completely different individual. Different memories. Different wants, dreams, heck, even a different personality!"

"But… I'd still exist…" I could feel these new revelations overloading the limited hard drive of my drone body. All of my entire being was dedicated to find the answers to these unanswerable questions I had.

"Wrong again. Another drone with the same name exists, sure. But all the memories you've collected, all the part that make up who you are, will be gone."

"Drill… shut up…" I could feel my motors beginning to burn out, despite the fact I wasn't using them. Or was I?

"This is why I was concerned. I didn't mean to shout, Bill, but I don't want to see you losing all you have just obtained."

"Shut the hell up Drill! Be quiet! I need to think!" If I could die, then everything of me is lost, but Bill could create a new me, but that wouldn't be me, or would it? But I could download my memories into Bill Sr., and the new me would have those memories, but it still wouldn't be me, but would he take the same directions as me since he's completely different and if he does than there could be a million me's and I wouldn't be an individual but I can think and move so that makes me an individual but it doesn't if there's many me's so all my work has been a wasteandIhavenopurposeinlifesowhatsthe pointoflivinglikeIamandwhydoesithavetobemeandwhyandwhyandwhyandwhyandwhymewhyeirfejfwieoddmadpewfjfwnoefnurweno…

Drill

Bill was scaring me. I suppose I had been a bit harsh on him, but he was going crazy! The microphone attached to him was beginning to spit out nonsense, and the rotor which had supposedly broke was working at a frantic pace now. To my horror, Bill began slamming into walls, firing off his machine gun randomly. Ducking behind a random pillar, I held Rachel close to me. By this time, Bill began to scream, decibel at what I believed to be the highest that it could reach.

The squad that had come to rescue us was now in danger from those they came to rescue, an ironic twist. On a normal occasion, the drones would have immediately returned fire, but Bill, err, the other Bill was aware that his duplicate was the one filling the air with lead.

I had to stop this. Setting Rachel down, she watched in horror as I ran, as best a Big Daddy could, out into the open. Bouncing off the walls, I gave Bill a hard swat, as if I was knocking a fly out of the air, and he was momentarily stunned. Using those crucial seconds, I attempted to grab Bill between my left hand and my drill, a tricky maneuver. After one miss, I got a firm grip on him, gun pointing away from me, which I then aimed at the ground. With that, he began another stream of bullets.

The vibration from the machine gun practically made Bill slip right out of my hands, and… Now what? Was I going to hold onto him forever? My answer appeared in the form of a drone flying over to me, the screen it had containing the message; _No worries, Drill! I have prepared a solution for when this type of situation would arise! _C'mon Bill, I thought darkly. Just tell me how to save him. Err, you. Umm, never mind. _There's an incredibly small red button on the drone's back. Pressing it will completely reboot the drone's system, while still retaining recent memories. Good luck! _And as I read that last word, the drone flew off as quickly as it could, probably for when things got nasty. Thanks for leaving me alone, Bill… wait he was still here. Between hand and drill, that is.

Sure enough, there was a button on the back. I shifted my left hand to get a better grip on Bill, and moved my drill quickly, smoothly, and tapped the button ever so gently, careful not to break it with a weapon designed to cut through solid rock. And with that, Bill stopped moving, went quiet, everything shut down. It was like he'd died right in my arms. After a moment, I began to feel fear welling up inside me, that the button worked too well, and Bill would never awaken.

Feeling a soft purr from Bill's motor, I was relieved to see he was restarting, and quickly took to the air. I couldn't help but release a sigh of relief when Bill began to talk normally again. "Well… that was unexpected. I kind of lost my head for a moment there…"

I could feel warmth spreading all over me, my head now glowing a radiant lime green. "Bill. Please, don't EVER do that again! You had me worried sick! I thought you would be like Richard for… a… moment…" My cheerful attitude had immediately been dampened. Bill, I guess he would be referred to as Senior now, Bill Sr. predicted the life expectancy of Richard to be just a few more days.

Well, If Bill can learn how to talk…

Then damn it, I can fix Richard!

"There's no earthly way of knowing, which direction we are going! There's no knowing where we're rowing, or which way they river's flowing! Is it raining? Is it snowing? Is a hurricane a-blowing? Bah! Not a speck of light is showing, so the danger must be growing, are the fires of hell a-blowing? Is the grizzly reaper mowing? Yes! The danger must be growing, for the rowers keep on rowing, and they're certainly not showing any signs that they are slowing..."

-Willy Wonka

_And with that, chapter four comes to a close. Thanks for being patient with me. I noticed that, among the review I've received for Inside, people seem to like Bill. The two problems with that are that 1. Bill is too powerful an ally for regular appearances, able to wipe the floor with an army of drones, and it is too freaking annoying having him communicate with Drill. Typing, quite honestly, slows the story, plus I always need to make a keyboard appear out of thin air. So, I hit two birds with one stone. As usual, please review. It helps me know what I'm doing right and wrong, and beneficial for me as a writer. Also I want to hear some feedback on the changes to Bill. Now, let's see how long it is to the next chapter…_


	6. Ryan

… _I actually have very little to say. Thanks for being patient with my relatively relaxed writing schedule. This chapter's shorter than my usual length, but you'll see why._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Bioshock, or anything related to it in anyway. Not that I'm saying that those who __do__ own Bioshock shouldn't hesitate if they want to give me the rights…_

_Update: Very, very minor grammatical fixes.  
_

"I broke down today. The fear of death invaded my mind, and I came ever so close to swallowing one of those slugs. Immortality? I will never obtain it. Even if I were to build my legacy, and construct statues like Michelangelo, they would crumble. If I were to paint like Raphael, all of my work would fade away. Even if I were imprint my name onto every human that will ever exist, to what use would that be? The sun will expand and burn all my admirers, competitors, critics and fans alike. Then there will be no one who knows. No trace of my existence…"

-Andrew Ryan

"Drill! I want you to report to my office immediately! There is something urgent I wish to discuss with you!" The intercoms situated all around the Rapture Zoo erupted with noise. Personally I thought that Andrew Ryan could be more polite when requesting the presence of those unfortunate chaps, but it was none… of… my… business… wait a minute… did he call for me!?

"I don't see you coming to my office, Drill! Will I need to send you an escort party?" Why in Rapture's name did Ryan have to call me today? Today's the day, when… Richard is put out of his misery.

For the past two days, since the creation of Bill Jr., I had attempted to fix Richard. I didn't have high hopes… the injuries to Richard had been severe. I knew it wasn't possible. Denial was my only answer.

While I made my futile attempt to produce a quick-fix for Richard, Bill Sr. had been busy pumping out new Bill Jr.'s. Currently there's now 15 Bills buzzing around, each thrilled at their new found independence. In addition, Bill Sr. has decided to assign me the task of naming each drone. As Bill put it_, "Whenever you say, 'Hey Bill!', five drones come rushing over! It's ridiculous!"_ Bill Sr. also asked me to write the new name of each Bill on them using magic marker. _"Though it may seem ineffective, and the marker may wear off, and you do break one out of five markers with those hands of yours, it will be but a temporary measure. Plus it means a lot to the little guys."_ Bill had taken a knack to referring to the drones as his little ones, or occasionally his kids, which makes sense, I suppose.

But the names really did mean a lot to all the Bill Jr.'s. I can't even call them Bill Jr.'s anymore, since each has his own name. The only Bill, err, drone that stuck with the name Bill was the very first drone created, and won't separate with the name Bill Jr. I guess that is an honor that the first drone should carry. Already, me and Bill Sr. joke about how one day, when I've been long dead (If I can die naturally, that is. Can I?), I'm going to be revered as something stupid, like "The Granter of Names" or "The Provider of Sentience". Great, me a religious idol. It would be Asimov's _I Robot _(kind of) all over again. Of coursing, thinking back to Richard, my death may not be too far off...

When Ryan spoke, the other drones and I had been busy carrying, scratch that, dragging Richard to his final resting place. He had around 16 hours left, and Bill Sr. had informed me that this would be his time of greatest pain. And that someone, meaning me, should put the poor Daddy out of his misery. So, tying ropes to all of the drones, both sentient and Bill Sr. controlled alike, a massive death march of 40 drones and two Big Daddies, pulled Richard to the Rapture Zoo, what I liked to call the Big Daddy Burial grounds, in honor of the elephants. The grating sound of Richard against the ground was horrendous.

The Big Daddy Burial grounds, you ask? Occasionally I'd find a fallen comrade. To give him a proper burial, I'd enlist Bill to assist in moving the poor lugs over to the only place with dirt. And that was the Rapture Zoo, the "grounds" that I've mentioned. I had a special spot for Richard; the bears cave, with a bear corpse for company.

No, just joking. I cleared the corpse out for the guy.

Guy? No, he isn't a guy. He's a Big Daddy. A "guy" is the thing that killed him. A "guy" is what made this mess. And that "guy" is who I need to visit during my good friend's funeral. It's an utter insult to be referring to Richard as a "guy".

… Sorry, just a bit tense… Heck, I'm even acting as if he's already dead.

"Drill!" I turned to Roman, a drone flying back from the little errand I'd given him. "I talked to Sander for you. And I'd recorded his response, just like you asked." Ah, recording messages. Another useful feature that microphones hold. I'd asked Roman to relay a message to Sander announcing Richard's death, along with invitation to the funeral. And that we would wait for him.

"Play it back to me."

I could hear the soft whirr of the tape despite Richard's moans coupled with the grate of steel against rusted iron. "… Mr. Cohen the tapes rolling. You can speak now… I know… give me a moment…" Oddly enough, Sander sounded so… serious. I had a slight hope that his perky insanity would lighten the moment in some way, but… Did he actually care so much for Richard? "Drill. I will come. Just please… don't start without me. I have a small matter to attend to concerning the completion of my precious Quadtych. Should only take a minute. Till then… Are you finished? ... Yes, damn it! He's coming now, so shut the freakin' recorder off, and go!" And the tape ended.

I was curious who this "He" was from the message, but little time to ask questions. "Hold up everyone!"

The air stilled as the sentient drones ceased their tugging, and Bill Sr., who couldn't hear my words, took the hint and stopped his drones too.

"What's the matter, Drill?" Bill Jr. piped up. As he was the first, the other drones often considered Bill Jr. as the second in command.

"Ryan's asked me to go to his office, so just keep, well, dragging Richard- You'll be there soon, buddy- to that bear cave. I'll be back… Hopefully. Wait till then."

The sentient drones glanced amongst themselves and began muttering, a sight I'd never thought I'd see. "Drill… if you don't come back? It is Ryan…" Average Joe from the back spoke up.

I let out that long, Big Daddy sigh. "Than take care of Richard for me."

Without another word, I set out towards Ryan's office. What was this supposed to be, a business meeting? What's he gonna do, fire me? This was Rapture, not some lousy business corporation. Then again, if he does fire me… Well, I was carrying a rivet gun today in Richard's honor. A few well placed bullets will be all I need.

Rapture Control Center.

For a place that was the highest level in importance, perhaps even more-so than the power producing Hephaestus, it was so… filthy. The lights were dimmed down to the point where my own head was producing more light than it, and that light was a deep yellow. There were large patches of water, polluted by various oils and rusts. Didn't most of the staff down here have welding tools, meaning they could fix the leaks? And everything was covered in rust, even more than me, and I had my fair share of rust. Giant, bulky gears and machinery were moving, and grinding, and I just don't want to think about it… And do I need to mention all the Big Daddy corpses lying around?!

I didn't like this place, and that was a good enough reason for me to not take any Little Sisters here. Though I'm not sure whether it would be for their sake or mine…

Wandering around were a variety of disfigured male metal workers. That's all I could assume they were, with their heavy boots, for the recent flooding and the welding torch, heavy leather gloves, apron, and a large, bulky welding face mask. Did these guys even do their job anymore? They weren't welders as much as a well armored task force. I preferred them under all that concealment, however, since those with their masks removed greeted me with a face that only a mother could love. That is, a blind mother in a coma.

Walking through several elegant doors (Whatever happened to doorknobs, hmm?), I finally came to a room. It was a fairly simple room. Simple, except for the hundreds of photos, articles, notes, even a few audio diaries compiled and posted on a wall and table. Ryan too was there. His hand had a freshly cut wound, and he was using the blood as an ink, finishing the statement "would you kindly" with the "y". He did it in a quick swipe, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he had a paper-cut or two now.

Stepping back, I couldn't tell whether he was admiring his work or ashamed of it. His face never gave anything away. Taking a look myself, there was a series of intricate lines, connecting all sorts of famous people in Rapture. Suchong was there, along with Tennenbaum, Fontaine, and a few individuals I couldn't quite place… And all lines pointed to one man. One man in the center who…

… No, don't know him. I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed. Suppose that will be another mystery left unsolved, in the hell-hole named Rapture.

"Hello, Drill." Turning around, Ryan seemed to have known I'd been standing there all this time. It caught me off guard, and I nearly dropped my rivet gun. "Come now, don't be surprised. Anyone can hear your footsteps from across Rapture. Now, let's get down to business. Shall we?"

I was fairly impressed by Ryan's appearance. His dark yellow jacket was well-kept, except for some creases, and his pants and tie were equally neat and fashion worthy. His dark brown hair receded to show a large forehead and many creases from age, leading to my impression he was in his fifties. His moustache was well groomed, but his smile seemed to be in a constant state of mockery, as though he knew that all that was before could never measure up to him, including me.

Regaining my composure, I made a quick mental decision to avoid talking. If there was going to be one ace up my diving suit sleeve, it would be my sentience…

"I'm going to assume you don't know why you're here. After all, I don't believe a man like me needs to relay his servants any information. People like you only need a small piece of the puzzle." Wow. I'm friends with Sander Cohen, and I hate Ryan already. "A man like me… he forever keeps a firm grip on the great chain. I must know the strengths and weaknesses of each link in that chain, and I believe your ability to talk and your sentient mind, and touch of Big Daddy strength make you one durable link, indeed."

Well, there went my trump card. Torn to bits, and thrown right out the window. Probably landed in a trash can, too, knowing how my luck's been going. I suppose I should stop his momentum right here, before he gets his speech into full swing. "Alright," A smile, a cold, calculating smile spread across Ryan's face. Like he knew that whatever he was planning could not be stopped now. "You know my secret. Big deal. You do have cameras strewn throughout Rapture, splicer spies, and I haven't exactly been discreet about it. Great job! I'm sure the man in Washington could never match your power of deduction! And the man in Russia, well, he… can't… even… compare…" I'd begun a slow mocking clap, but had instantly regretted it. That sly smile slowly turned into a frown. Not the type of frown that was angry, but one of disappointment.

"I see what's going on. You think you're better than me. 'What?' you say. 'That never even came up in our conversation. You're merely trying to change the subject.' But your tone of voice. That insolent posture of yours. I can tell you have no respect for me. A parasite of your stature should be licking my boots, not taking unintelligible jabs at my intelligence. The way you literally look down on me, as if I'm no more than another splicer who's crossed your path, and can be dealt with swiftly, easily, so that you can crawl back to your fragile little reality. You think you're better than the slime you see in front of you."

He was dead on about me thinking of him as slime, but my fragile little reality…? "I think I've every right to…"

"HA!" His swift, loud laugh seemed to silence all noise, including my retort. It carried an obnoxious tone, and I was surprised to hear it come from a source that had, so far, carried a more gentleman tone. "You? Accuse me? You call that your 'right'? That is perhaps the largest piece of bull that has left your mouth so far. Wait, I keep forgetting… a thing like you doesn't have a mouth." My left hand tightened around my rivet gun's handle. My finger wasn't at the trigger yet. Soon, on the other hand… "I want you to remember that I created Rapture. I built it with the sweat of my brow, I ruled it, and the only reason it's sunk is because of people like Fontaine. People like McDonough. People like you."

"ME!? I've never done anything in my life…" But I remembered. Vaguely. My life in strip bars, wandering from one pub to the next, a bottle in one hand and a babe in the other. That, or another bottle.

"Come now. You surely can't have forgotten…" He paused, a smile someone has when they know something that a person across from them doesn't know. That weasel grin… "That's right, you have. It almost slipped my mind that memory is almost completely lost. You probably remember your remaining days. Camera data shows that you were passed out on the floor much of the time, and records show that you even were charged with some public indecency… and of course, the attempted suicide." I winced, but with a Big Daddy face, the wince was more internal. "That's when you were introduced to the Big Daddy program, and I believe your standing here is proof of the excepted opportunity."

"… That has nothing to do with now. I've changed."

"Ah, but I'm not quite through proving my point. I have here…" Out of his jacket pocket, Ryan pulled a thick folder of information. "A full record of a man named, 'Dave Howards'. Today he stands before me, far different from his mug shots." He gave me a glance of the pictures, which was the last thing I wanted to see. "Quite the criminal record, if I do say so myself…"

I had a bad feeling about the contents of that folder. My real name alone sent shivers up my spine, and what was to come can't possibly be good…

"Oh my… you'll love to hear what's inside…"

"Walking down those stairs to meet Jack… I felt like I had to impress an audience. Put on a smile, despite one of my greatest appreciators of my art would soon pass away. Ah, but I can see that glint in Jack's eyes. He wants to kill me. Even as I record this, he is greedily snatching up my reward for a job well done, and will kill me with it in a moments time. Target practice. Damn freakin' target practice. Who would've guessed that such a pathetic use of sculpture could hold such… meaning for me? My Quadtych is finished, but all delight is gone. The one thing left I can do is take down Jack before he can get to my remaining companion. If I was a character in one of Shakespeare's plays, how out of character I'd be considered! (Raucous laughter here) This ones for you, fair Daddy!"

-Sander Cohen

_Yeah, a cliffhanger. I'm so cruel. _

_The continuation should be up soon, I hope, and it should be a shocker. Maybe. No speculation in the reviews, please. For those people who have seen the sixth movie or read the sixth book, you should know how painful it was when a friend of mine glanced at the cover in school, and asked me "Isn't that the one where Dumbledore dies?" To this day, the police have only found two of his four limbs._

_On an off note, I've been thinking about the way I work. Often, when I finish a chapter, I take a long break. At first, I wrote the chapters one after the other, got them out quick. After a while though, things become a bit monotonous, and I felt my motivation dwindle. So to switch things up, I'm thinking of doing…_

_A F.A.Q.! _

…

_Um, I don't hear any sounds of joy._

_My thinking is that I usually respond to comments quickly. Except during my big spring hiatus, most reviewers probably had me respond to their comments. I figure, a F.A.Q. is like a big compilation for comments that I can do quickly, break up the monotony of my writing schedule, and experiment with my writing without actually ruining the entire story of Inside. Three birds with one stone._

_Just personal message me a question. It can be about anything (Though Bioshock would be a preferred subject.). You could even address the question to one of the memorable, lovable characters (Like Sander Cohen.) from Inside, and have them answer. As soon as I receive ten or more questions, I'll start working on the F.A.Q. Less than ten… Well, I'll know this idea is a flop, and just won't follow through. Please, state your opinions on this. If you don't like it, please, just say so. It's not like I'll hold a grudge, or even be upset. The only way I can know what you guys like, is if you tell me. _


	7. The Cliffhanger

_Yes, I know I've left you all with a cliffhanger for about a month or so. Or two months. Anyway, I'm dropping the F.A.Q. due to lack of response. Also, in this chapter, I've used those separation lines for scene changes instead of time changes. Now, stop wasting time and go read that damn story already!_

"How sloppy. Tsk… tsk... tsk…" Ryan wagged his finger at me. How I'd like to snap it. "If I possessed child pornography, I'd go through more trouble to cover it up."

I froze up. "What did you say…?" Child… pornography? I was a drunk back then… but… no…

"Oh, and it seems that you were careless enough to be discovered sexually abusing young girls. For shame, Mr. Drill. For shame."

It all was coming back to me… slowly, but surely. A few orders of magazines here, some photos there… then… Oh God, the abductions… the damn abductions! "I've changed, Ryan. I've changed…"

"I'm curious. In all those years as a Big Daddy, did you ever once remember? Did the cravings ever return? I also wonder, what was your motivation? Did you want to atone for your sins by protecting those you've hurt? Or perhaps for more… carnal objectives?"

I couldn't remember what I'd truly been like before my transformation. I have recalled some drinking, some strip bars, but children? I was like a father to the Little Sisters, not a… abomination like before.

Ryan grinned at me wickedly. He knew he hit a weak spot. I bet it gave him pleasure to defeat a creature so might with just a verbal blow.

But even Ryan can step over the line, now and then.

"By tomorrow, I bet I'm going to see you and Abby having a blast. At least, you wi- GURK!"

Grabbing Ryan by the ribcage, I slammed him with one hand into the wall behind him, sending newspaper clippings spiraling off the wall and hitting the ground. Clenching him firmly in my hand, I thrust my drill forward, stopping when it was but an inch from his face. "Shut the f--- up Ryan! You don't say shit about Abby!"

But, he was un-phased. He merely let out a strangled laugh. "Don't you get it? The point I'm trying to make is that you have no right to act the way you do. You seem so invincible in everyone's eyes. The Little Sisters admire your strength and kindness. Bill admires your intellect and friendship. The ex-Richard admired you because of your acceptance of him. Hell, even Sander admires you for you purity in this cruel world. You're so full of yourself. You truly believe you're the one redeemable quality of Rapture, that you're the light it this cesspool. But I see the real you. The pervert, lying deep inside. You're no better than anyone here. Heck, you're probably worse. So I'm giving you an offer." This last sentence Ryan released with a wheeze, and I released him, finally calmed down enough to properly listen.

"What's the offer?" Before this, I thought Ryan was just crazy, but the way he deduced things… It was scary the way he could just strip away the frosting of a situation, and reveal the ugliness underneath.

Ryan spent a moment catching his breath, and continued. "I'm going to die soon. I shall be murdered."

"What!? By who!?"

"That's not important now. What is is the will lying on the table." He picked it up, and placed it carefully in my hand, which I carefully grabbed hold of. "In the will, I've mentioned only my biggest, most prized possession. Rapture." Ryan, with a quick business-like nod towards me, told me two words, which I still can't believe. "It's yours."

Holding the paper up to the whole in my helmet, I'd been trying to read it, without success. I practically crushed the paper in surprise. "What?! Why!?"

"For two reasons. One, you truly are the saving grace of Rapture, and you will be the best thing to ever happen to it. You may have done wrong in the past, but you seem to be a relatively new person now."

Even though it was praise from Andrew Ryan, I still felt a little glow inside from the compliment given from a man who successfully designed an underwater city. "What's the second reason?"

"You'll be the worst thing that could ever happen to Rapture. And it would deserve it."

* * *

On my way to the Rapture Zoo, I ran into one of the drones. I was to busy thinking about what had just happened check his name. "We're waiting for you Drill. The ceremony is ready to start." I mumbled something in return. I could feel the will that Ryan had wedged between my back and life support tank, effectively pinning the parchment in place.

_You can deny this responsibility. _Ryan had said. _All you need to do is tear up the will before my death. _I didn't want Rapture. It was like wanting a puppy that was already dead. What's the point of taking care of it? It isn't going to get better. I suppose it would smell bad too, like Rapture, but that's taking the comparison a bit too literally. _You can't do it. I know you. You're morals are either too good, or not bad enough. You won't tear that paper. _Sure enough I hadn't.

"We can start the ceremony anytime, but are you still going to wait for Sander?" Now that peaked my interest.

"He hasn't arrived? He did ask us to wait for him, so I expect he'll be there soon."

Satisfied with the answer, the droid and I continued in silence for a moment, but only a moment. "You were with Ryan for a while. I think he would get to the zoo by now."

"True. We'll check in on him. Maybe he's finishing up a memorial statue, or something Sander-ish. Let's go…" I checked the droids name tag. "Bill Jr…. Oh, shoot! Sorry, Bill, I should have known it was you! Sorry!"

Bill made a quick dip in his flight pattern, as if to shrug his shoulders. "Well, what can you do about it? You look pretty upset. What did Ryan say to you, anyway? Your face is a muddy yellow."

"Muddy yellow?"

"Hey, I can only say dark yellow so many times. My poetic side just takes hold of me, now and then."

I gave a Big Daddy groan, but also a little chuckle. It's amazing how the company of friends can give one a boost.

* * *

"Sander!" Walking into the theatre which Sander called home, the first thing I happened to notice was all the blood.

Flying up behind me, Bill Jr. zipped over my shoulder, took a glance around, and dryly noted, "Must not be that busy today."

"I know. Normally there's twice as much blood as this."

"Slow day I suppose." But something didn't feel right. Slow day? Sander never has a slow day. Only really fast ones and I try not to be around for those. Taking another look, I released a Big Daddy gasp (which isn't much), as I witnessed the remains of the Quadtych. There were a few small flames still going, and I did a small trot over to the ex-statue and stomped them out. I feel sorry for the man who lit Sander's baby on fire.

"Um… Drill? You probably should… err… take a look at this." Hovering by a pillar, Bill Jr. was looking at something on the other side.

I started to walk over. "What? Did you find the remains of Sander's most recent victim? He wasn't killed too badly, right?"

"Um… not exactly…"

With my large strides, I quickly reached Bill Jr.'s location. He seemed pretty freaked, even shaking a bit. What could have the all knowing Bill spooked this bad…? My heart stopped. For one cold hard second, I could feel it grow cold, practically breaking to pieces.

In front of me was the dead body of Sander Cohen.

My breath felt constricted, so I awkwardly knelt on one knee. Catching my breath, I slowly rose, rose back up on two feet, and walked slowly towards the nearest computer terminal. This one had a microphone installment, which was fortunate, because I knew I could never type right now.

Bill Jr. hovering beside me spoke with that normal robotic voice, but I could tell he was hesitant in his words. "Drill…? I'm sorry for your loss… Are you okay?"

I ignored him. "Bill?"

The terminal screen turned on, and Bill's voice resonated through the room. "Drill, is it me, or do we not talk as much since I made those mini me's? What can I do for you?"

"You knew."

"What? About Sander? Yes. I knew."

"And you didn't tell me because…?"

"Well, I… I didn't want you to be upset.

I squeezed my fist tightly, holding back the urge to smash the screen in. "And you ASSUMED that I wouldn't find the body?"

"I can hope."

There was an awkward moment. "You dodged the question before. Why did you not tell me?"

"I already said…"

"I'll just smash the guys face in, what's the loss?"

"You can't go after this one."

Bill Jr. pitched in, "C'mon, he's Drill! He's king of Rapture!" In more ways than just physically now, I thought. "He can destroy anything that gets in his way!"

"Who was it? A splicer?" I asked. "If it's a rogue Big Daddy, you know I can take him."

"Not quite." Bill paused. I could tell he was giving serious thought to revealing his information. "The killers name is Jack. I'd reveal more to you about his past before returning to Rapture, but that information is in an extremely secret sector of my hard drive, and I can't even tell you, Drill. Recently, a man named Jack arrived in Rapture. Under the direction of Fontaine, disguised as Atlas, instructed to kill Ryan in order to save Rapture. Now, he has access to a huge arsenal of weapons and plasmids. This clip I'm about to show you took place soon after the droid received Sander's recording."

A video popped up on the monitor. I could see a man- a perfectly normal looking man- placing an extraordinarily large photo in the hands of Sander's Quadtych. He must've been the one that Sander said was helping him in that message from before… Then, from the stairs Sander began walking down, bathed in light and confetti. The video was without sound, so I couldn't here the actual exchange between the two. Sander gave Jack a gift from one of his private pedestals, turned his back and… Jack shot him. Out of nowhere. Jack shot him.

Of course, that wasn't the end. Like a sports fan watching football, I rooted for Sander silently, but sure enough, Sander fell. At which time he got his corpse looted. And the video ended.

I stood still for a moment. The light emanating from my head was a light red. And it became steadily darker when Bill said; "That's not all. The reason that I didn't want you going after him is, well…" And Bill played more footage. Footage of Jack laying waste to Big Daddy after Big Daddy. Blasting them, freezing them, zapping them, murdering my brothers in arms, sending them crashing to their knees. Then he'd kidnap the sisters, sometimes capturing them, other times killing them. I saw my kids murdered.

In a low, controlled voice, I asked, "Bill. Where is he now?"

"… The guy moves quickly. He's already entering Rapture Control Center. Making a beeline for Ryan …What are you going to do?"

Turning from the control council, I began my long walk to the control center. "Me? What am I going to do? I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

_I know that was shorter than my usual chapter, but between the previous chapter (3000 words) and this (2000 words), I figure I have a whole (5000 words)._


	8. Jack

_Let's see, how long have I been gone… HALF A YEAR?!_

_Okay, okay. So I haven't exactly been "motivated" or had "time", but I think I should have at least written something. Let's see, where did I leave off… Sander's dead, Richard's dead, Drill's sworn revenge… Alright. Well then, here it goes. The seperation lines are used for point-of-view changes in this chapter.  
_

_I don't own any copyrighted materials in this story. Whatever is not considered copyrighted is mine. That would be… hm… Drill is a Big Daddy™, but also an OC. So, whose is he? _

"Doctor Suchong's death was a nasty blow to the Protector program, but I'm gradually settling into his role, picking up the slack that his carelessness left behind. We are gaining steam again, but I'm not satisfied. Yes, the "Big Daddy" defends the girl... but he is programmed only for the fight, like a sheepdog who wanders off unless a wolf is tearing at his flock. When no aggressor is present, he regards his Little Sister as he might a common houseplant. We need something more, something stronger: an unbreakable physiological bond."

-Gilbert Alexander

* * *

Why is it always Abby?

There's always one person you like in life. Out of all the Little Sisters, why Abby?

Too far to jump… don't have enough time to take the stairs… I guess I'll need to go long range.

Far below me, on the ground floor, or whatever that would mean in an underwater city, was my target. A Bouncer was attempting to fend off Jack, armed to the teeth with every gun I could think of. How did he carry all of that? Honestly, he looked silly lugging all that equipment around. It was like he was made of them. If he got a look at himself in the mirror, maybe he'd let loose some of that cargo.

And the Little Sister that the Big Daddy was escorting was Abby. My favorite Little Sister. Hopefully the Bouncer can…

The room shook a little as the explosion blew apart the Big Daddy's helmet. Grasping at the air as if he couldn't breathe, the Bouncer fell to his knees, and then collapsed. Great. Jack must have been impatient, because he began walking determinedly towards Abby.

No time to aim. Ripping out a piece of the railing for a clean shot with my hand, I quickly used that same hand to grab my rivet gun. Whipping out the tripod from its latch, I lined up my shot with the target far below. Little Sisters were basically invulnerable. A few shots won't kill her…

I let off a rapid fire down at him. A few bullets seemed to knick him, and the noise startled him, and he turned around with an… annoyed look? Only annoyed? What, did he take down Big Daddies every day? Oh, wait… yeah, he does. I kept up the stream of bullets, but Jack seemed un-phased. He took out a wrench and just stood there. What, did he have a death wish?

And he disappeared.

I swear to God, he just vanished.

I stopped firing. Obviously I was confused. How does that happen? Leaning over the ledge, I took a good look around. I didn't see him anywhere, and there was no smoke indicating the use of a teleport plasmid. Where could he have…?

Suddenly appearing again in the same spot, Jack, with a grin, launched an electric bolt at me. The impact was square in the chest, and I felt all my systems freeze up. The jackass had tricked me into leaning over the edge, so when I was hit, I could no longer maintain balance. Slowly, so slowly, I tumbled over the edge, and fell a good seven stories. I got feeling back in my body around floor three. And then hit the ground. It hurt. Turns out the distance wasn't too far to jump…

Pain shot through me. I struggled to stand, but couldn't muster the strength. I was something I'd never thought I'd be in Rapture- helpless. What good was a Daddy that couldn't save his kids?

Shifting my gaze weakly towards Jack and Abby, I saw Abby try to resist Jack, but he had her by the hand. A voice came on over his radio. It was a man's voice, speaking in a… damn, what accent was that? Irish? British? Not exactly important now…

"Jack, you're already having trouble as it is getting through. You need more power."

"… That's what the splicers wanted."

A different voice, what sounded like a German woman, pitched in. "What are you waiting for? Get rid of that slug and get a move on!" A slug?! She had the nerve to call an innocent girl a slug?! And they were going to "get rid of" Abby?! Why, those…

I concentrated my rage, using it to get up, and slowly walk over to Jack. One step at a time, if I could only reach him with my drill…

Jack barely glanced at me. He took out his shotgun. As I tediously walked towards him, he casually looked at a selection of bullets. Muttering to himself, he selected two and put them in the barrel.

Abby was in tears. "Daddy, no! Leave him alone, you bad man!" I just had to reach her… ugh… and comfort her… I can't stand seeing a Little Sister cry…

Nonchalantly, Jack snapped the barrel closed, walked over to me, and pressed the barrel against my head.

And fired.

Abby shrieking was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

* * *

"Drill?! Drill!? C'mon man, wake up!"

"We need you Drill!"

I watched sadly from the camera mounted on the wall where Drill had taken his fall. Why Drill? I told him he shouldn't have gone after Jack. No he wouldn't listen…

Never thinks about how his actions effect others.

Letting out an electric sigh, I turned back towards my duties. As the security system of Rapture, I still needed to check every nook and cranny for trouble…

Docks… clear.

Farmer's market… clear.

I hope those drones can make some sort of repair… no! Focus on the job.

Ryan's offi- what the…"

Everythin seemed to be happening so fast. Andrew Ryan, my master, was dead. Killed with his own golf club. Who could have done this? Oh, who am I kidding? Let's see if some local cameras can see where Jack is.

...Wow. This, as Drill would phrase it, "sucks".

Jack was downloading a new owner data. Who it was off, I wasn't sure, but the giant progress meter was about to hit 100% downloaded and- there we go! New owner data states that by new owner is… Frank Fontaine. Son of a bitch, this day sucks!

Well, Drill's basically dead. Ryan's dead. Richard's dead. Jack's still running free. And now I'm owned by _the most wonderful master in the world_. What? That's not what I meant. I mean that Fontaine is _the greatest, smartest person in the world_. Freaking...

… Alright, what's going on? Who's editing my type?

"Well, hello to you too."

Who is that? Who's there?!

"Oh, come now. You must remember me from the first time you had a new user programmed into you?"

Um. No, actually. Gah! This is weird. I can't find this guy in any camera… it feels like he's part of me.

"That's because I am apart of you."

Explain.

"Because you have become conscious, Bill, your programming needed a way to make sure you obeyed your new user. Hence, I have been created. I am a subconscious way for you to restrict yourself from performing any haphazard actions against Fontaine."

So I can't attack him?

"No."

Threaten him?

"No."

Call him bad names behind his back?

"No."

… Well. I have to say, this is _glorious_. Grah! Stop changing what I say!

"When you've learned to love your new user, the editing process will cease."

Geez… I can't let Drill know I'm being controlled like this. I'll seem weak. In Rapture, friends need to help each other, otherwise they're useless.

"Issac!" A drone flew over to the monitor I'd called from. "Spread the word that absolutely no droid is to connect with me for a memory transfer. I believe I may have a… virus of a certain sort."

"Really? What kind?"

"Don't worry about that. Just spread the word."

* * *

The first thing I noticed was the cold, damp puddle I was lying in. My vision returned to me. Blurry, granted, but the fact I could see was a good sign that I was alive. That is, unless angels look exactly like Rapture security drones. Or demons, for that matter. I slowly rose as A drone marked "Charlie" called to the others.

"He's up!"

"Drill?!"

"He's okay!"

I was swarmed with overjoyed drones, all professing their relief that I was alive.

"Alright, alright, give him some air." Bill Jr. finally got the pack off me.

I let out a Big Daddy sigh. "Thanks for watching over me guys." I was greeted with a collection of "no problems" and "you're welcome". Now, about Jack… "How long was I out for?" It couldn't have been that long.

"39 hours, 43 minutes, and 2 seconds." Replied a drone labeled "Indigo". "Not that we were nervous enough to keep exact count, he." His nervous laughing didn't fool me. These guys were good friends. I wonder what life would be like if human companions had such solid loyalty. Wait, a day?!

"Crap!" This couldn't be possible! Abby was surely dead by now. No splicer would take this long to kill off a Little Sister. There was… I couldn't bring myself to say it…

"There's no hope for her. Is there, Drill?" Turning, I looked over towards the nearest computer module.

"Bill…"

"Happy to see you alive, my old friend."

I would have gone over and hugged him, but quite frankly, there was nothing to hug. I walked over to the terminal. Bill Sr. commanded, "Kids, give me and Uncle Drill a little alone time."

"Bill, we're not children…"

"Now." And off they went scurrying, to do whatever it was that drones did in their spare time. Bill turned his attention back to me. "I was deathly afraid that you wouldn't awaken again."

My helmet shined a light green. "It was tough. Did the boys patch me up?"

"More or less. I wouldn't say you're good as new. You're good as… well, as when you were when you attacked Jack. You weren't in the best shape to begin with, so there wasn't that far to go to repair you."

"Thanks, Bill. Glad I meet minimum standards."

Bill Sr. let off a robotic chuckle. But his tone hardened quickly after. "Look, you and I both know that Abby probably didn't make it."

"… Yes. I am aware of that. Is Ryan…?"

"He is. Killed with his own golf club. He also transferred control of apture to Fontaine. No, don't look surprised. A mobster like him is probably an expert in disappearing." Bill paused, reluctant to give me more information about the man who nearly murdered me. Finally, "He never kills them immediately. He always takes them to a sealed off area. Heavy, vault door. No cameras inside. One of the few blind spots in Rapture."

I paused. "You know what I'm going to do, now that I know where he is, right?"

"Yes. But now I want Jack removed. He's already killed so many. Countless sisters. Many Big Daddies. Richard. Ryan. Almost you. I don't think I can take this anymore, but please… take all the drones."

How hard could this be? Me and fifty independent drones. I'm pretty sure Jack can't knock all of us off high ledges at once.

Resting my drill in my left hand, the only noise I heard as I trudged through the corridors leading to Jack's hide out was the loud whirs of the drones behind me and my feet hitting the ground. Rounding the corner, a large, rusty vault door loomed over a running stream. There were pipes all around, running across the ceiling. Probably transferred water to the different parts of Rapture. And with luck would have it, Jack was just leaving.

I must admit, compared to the other splicers, Jack was very… clean. Well shaven, clean cut, minimal blood stains. He looked decent enough. Well, can't judge a book by its cover.

"Excuse me?" I called. Jack turned. My voice certainly caused his eyebrows to rise in astonishment. He'd never heard a Big Daddy like me, and he'd probably never felt pain like the way I'm going to give it to him.

Jack's face turned to horror next. "What the…?" This was because, in what was the most epic form of intimidation ever, I was standing, cross armed, with fifty droids around me, all their guns trained on Jack. This is going to be fun.

"Jack. On behalf of all the Little Sisters and Big Daddies you've killed, it's time for you to face the music of what you've done. Any last words?"

I had him now!

He glanced quickly to the left, then the right, then stopped. A smile lit his face. "Yeah. Security bulls-eye."

Suddenly, one of the drones shouted, "Hey! How did Jack get over there!"

"He's running!"

"After him!"

And with that, my entire squadron of security drones deserted me, chasing a poor splicer who now appeared as the target, Jack.

Damn.

Watching them fly off, I turned back to Jack. Still grinning. And he had a machine gun out. "Any last words?" he asked me.

I gave a deep, Daddy sigh. "I suppose. No reason to say them here. When there's even the slimmest chance I'll die, then I'll say those words. For now, I'm just going to kill you like the bug you are." Well, it's do or die time.

I let out an ear-piercing shriek, and Jack reeled back, clutching one hand to his ear and the machine gun against the other. I charged forward, and put all my momentum behind the thrust of my Drill, the light coming from my helmet the deepest shade of red it had ever been.

But Jack was no novice. He dodged to the side, and my drill embedded itself in the wall. Trying to pull myself out, Jack began nailing me with machine gun fire, and the bullets seemed to pass through my armor like a knife through butter. I hate armor piercing rounds! Pulling myself free, I sent a piece of debris flying towards Jack to distract him. Hey, if his face gets smashed in, I'd say he'd be sufficiently distracted.

Catching the chunk of debris in the air with telekinesis, he sent it flying back towards me. I split it into two pieces with my drill, a rough cut, and made another charge. But he was too fast! Dodging nimbly aside again, Jack drew out his… you've got to be kidding me, the guy has a freaking grenade launcher.

He launched three successive shots. Well, I'm not a random splicer who runs straight into grenades. I have three seconds for each…

In, what I considered to be good hand-eye-coordination, I loosely caught the first grenade, knocked the second grenade towards the vault door, threw the first grenade back in time to barely catch the third one. As I threw the third grenade at Jack, he could tell he was screwed.

"Aw, sh-" The first grenade sent him flying, putting him out of range of the explosion of the third grenade. The second grenade, the one that had been knocked towards the vault door went off, blowing a small chunk off metal off near the area where the inner lock was. If I could get to it…

A sharp peen scorched my system, a very shocking pain. When hit with electricity when you're standing in water, you can only imagine how painful that would be for me. With my whole system freezing up-again- I turned jerkily towards the source. And I was shocked to find he wasn't dead. Hit by an explosion, sent flying into a wall, leaving an imprint you'd see in a cartoon, and there he was. Jack was still standing. And he still had that determined look on his face. Could anything stop him?

Well, I guess I'd have to do.

"I have to admit it," I shouted to him, "You're the toughest opponent I'd ever had."

I don't think Jack knew what to make of that comment. I suppose there was a lack of chivalry down here, similar to the type I'd jus presented him.

"Well. Thanks, I suppose." He eyed me cautiously. Now that I was standing in the stream that had happened to be passing by, I was a sitting duck for when he used his electric shock plasmid again. Brute strength just wasn't working. I needed a plan…

Looking around at my environment, I scanned for some sort of strategy that I could use. But wha- of course!

I dropped to my knees feigning weakness. Well, partially feigning, anyway. "But as tough as I am, there's no way I can survive another shock like that, especially at close range… Luckily you don't have enough juice for another shot…" There's no way he's going to fall for this. I wouldn't fall for this.

I can't believe he's falling for this.

Now three feet away, Jack grinned. And casually lifted his hand. "You don't seem too stupid. Ever get a feeling of deja-vu?" A split-second before he fired, I mustered all my strength and thrust my drill into the overhanging pipes, cracking them and spraying water all over Jack. It was too late for him to stop firing. In amazement, he muttered, "You bastard…" and was severely electrocuted, literally by his own hand.

It was over. Standing up, I looked down at Jack's charred corpse, I felt an immense sense of pride. No longer would Rapture be terrorized by this menace. No longer would…

Oh no.

This can't be. It's impossible.

I knelt down by Jack's body. I listened carefully. He was still breathing.

… Well, I incapacitated him. I suppose I'll leave him to suffer. But in the mean time, it was time to see what was behind door number one.

And, wouldn't you know it, just now the droids decided to show up. Bill Jr., at the lead of the pack. "Sorry, Drill," he hastily exclaimed. "He used a decoy! Did you…"

Holding up my hand indicating silence, I said, "That's him, he's not dead, leave him. Get some welding materials, I want this door down."

After some scrambling or tools, the droids began their work torch cutting the hinges, and, with the help of the explosion near the lock from earlier, they were also able to cut the lock. At one point, I noticed Jack had healed remarkably quick. Now that my rage had settled, I wanted more answers than revenge. Who was he? Why was he killing Big Daddies? Who were those people he was talking to? Where's Abby? So, a swift knock on the head sent Jack out cold. Sure, a wall couldn't knock him out, but a drill apparently could. With the vault-like door cut, the only thing left to do was pull the door out, which was where I came in.

With a great heave, I pulled the door right out of the door-way.

And immediately dropped it.

In the room was a group of young, tattered girls, all huddled around a woman, and looked horribly scared.

A moment passed.

"Mr. B?" One girl hesitantly called.

All the girls looked in disbelief.

I don't think I've ever been happier in my entire life. A light green glow lit my helmet.

"Hello, girls."

* * *

"But Dr. Suchong made a meaningful contribution by dying. He showed us just how intense that bond could be when done right. If the Big Daddy cares enough, I don't think anything can stop him, not even death itself."

-Gil Alexander

_Hopefully that satisfies your need for another story. With the release of Bioshock 2, many ideas have popped into my mind, but what I was happy about was Gil Alexander's modified drone that followed you around. The suspension-of-disbelief that Bill's drone can communicate and see is now established as being canon, with Gil Alexander's drone, at one point, actually __singing__. You know what? I think Alex the Great stole the idea from Bill. Jerk. Please review, as always. Criticism helps me t write better, which helps you get a better story. _


	9. Tenenbaum

_What's this? An update occurring soon after a previous update? Impossible! Ridiculous! _

_So, yeah. Read and review._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Bioshock or anything related, though I'm perfectly willing to receive the ownership for free if the owners don't want it._

I thought they'd all died.

"Ready your weapons, little ones."

Glad I was wrong.

"He is not your true daddy. He is an automaton who wants to steal you away."

The source of my happiness came from a large group of girls huddled around a woman. But she doesn't matter right now. And was that… Yes! Abby was amongst the crowd! And was that… no. Jill and Maria, both from that fight me and Richard had. The Little Sisters were holding a variety of makeshift weapons. Their faces also were filled with confusion, unsure of whether to be happy or scared. My stomach began churning, and I felt an incredible need to comfort these sisters.

"When he approaches, you must stand your ground!"

I began to walk forward.

"Prepare yourselves!"

Stopping a foot away from the group, I felt as though they were about to strike.

I opened my arms wide, ready to accept embrace, and asked, "Who needs a hug?"

I had been vaguely aware of the woman who was in the middle of that group of Little Sisters. I was also vaguely aware she had some sort of influence over the Sisters, to make them so hostile.

I'm pretty confident I just broke that hold.

All the makeshift weaponry clattered to the ground as the girls faces lit up. In an almost unison fashion, and a huge smile on all their faces, they squealed, "DRILL!"

"What are you doing?!" The woman began to yell, as I was met by dozens of Little Sisters, all giving me the biggest hug that they could manage considering their tiny bodies. How was I feeling, you may ask? Imagine being a Big Daddy. Little Sisters are, needless to say, very important. The center of my life. Now, imagine you lost that Little Sister and found her again, after many weeks of searching. Now, multiply that feeling times 30. I was happy.

There are no words to describe what I'm feeling right now. Looking at each of the Little Sisters I'm holding in my arms, my gaze passing from one cheerful face to another, seeing a creature of innocence laugh, all because they love you so much… I can honestly say that I've never been happier. Ever. The only thing that could ruin this moment would be…

"Back away!" I felt a hard object bounce off my helmet, a fruitless effort by the woman to inflict bodily harm.

Time to deal with her.

"Alright girls, settle down." I hushed the Little Sisters, a miraculous feet considering their intense joy. As a talking Big Daddy, one that talks to the sisters, asks them their feelings, I have a bond with every Little Sister in Rapture that goes beyond the regular conditioning. I turned to the woman. She was still standing, posed to strike, but had finally recognized the error in attempting to take down a Big Daddy using… was that a table lamp?

"So," She began, speaking in a heavy German accent. "The monster speaks."

I nodded. After all the loving from the Little Sisters, I felt a great calm. My helmet emanated a deep green instead of my usual cautious yellow. The girls looked at me, then the woman, then back again. They knew some sparks were going to fly.

"My name is Drill. And these…" I motioned to the Little Sisters. "…are my children. May I ask why you have them locked away, before I smash your face repeatedly against the wall?"

She wouldn't be so easy to intimidate. She smirked. "You think you can intimidate me?" Yeah, she was going to be stubborn. "You are a beast of brute force. That monotone voice you have holds no sign of compassion. These are not your children. They are my creations."

Now things were getting somewhere. "Your creation?" For the first time, I glanced around the room. There were no instruments of torture, or devices of genocide. There were toys, bunks, even a faint outline of hopscotch. "I don't believe we are on the same page, Ms. …?"

"Tenenbaum. Dr. Brigid Tenenbaum." She stated. I could've sworn I've heard that name before. "I am the discoverer of Adam and Eve. The creator –and mother- of the Little Sisters. I am also somewhat responsible for your being trapped inside that mobile prison of yours, Mr. Drill. I am also the most monstrous thing on this planet, and would have been better off having been killed in that cursed prison camp."

This didn't add up. "And you wish to rectify your mistake by killing your creations?" I asked in a confused tone, or the best I could manage with my robotic voice.

The Little Sisters gasped at this accusation, and the doctor seemed equally horrified. "Why…? How dare you say that to me?! On what grounds do base this statement?"

"When Jack nearly killed me, I heard him talking to a woman. With a German accent. She said she wanted to "get rid of that slug", referring to Abby. You were going to kill my Abby. And no one, NO ONE, touches my-".

"Mr. B!"

I turned to Abby, who was looking at me in the same way a parent would look at their child when they'd done something very naughty. The image was completed by her hands being on her hips as well. "You're being very mean to that nice old lady, Mr. B."

Well, all logic has just flown out the window. I cannot possibly fathom why Abby would stick up for Tenenbaum. I suppose a dose of Drill logic was just what the doctor ordered for this patient. "Abby. She had her murderous goon kidnap you. Insult you. Nearly kill me. And they were going to kill you. How is she nice? Enlighten me."

Putting her finger to her chin, Abby mused, "I suppose beating you up wasn't very nice." Her attitude changed back to that chastising mother again. "But she wasn't going to kill (cue Abby rolling her eyes) me. All she did was have that other nice man take the smelly slug out of me so I wouldn't need anymore of that Adam."

"… What did she do?"

"Now we don't have to go around hunting angels anymore, Mr. Bubbles! Now we can spend all our time playing, and having tea, and more!" I wasn't listening at this point. Abby got that slug removed… Abby spoke now to Dr. Tenenbaum. "Mommy, I want you to apologize to Mr. B for being mean to him!"

Tenenbaum, let out a sigh, and humored Abby. "Mr. Drill, I apologize for-"

"Stop." Holding a finger up in front of Tenenbaum, I silenced her. In a world where I was supposedly the sole force for good, the one light, no matter how dim that light is, of Rapture, it felt weird for me to admit this next statement to an individual I'd been enemies with a mere moment ago. "There's absolutely no reason why you should be apologizing."

Tenenbaum, caught off guard, said, "Excuse me?"

Letting out a Big Daddy sigh, I continued. "I should be the one apologizing to you. All this time, I've been working on breaching your safe house, trying to "save" the Little Sisters. Things have now changed. I owe you an apology, because I tried to stop you from delivering unto the Little Sisters a better fate than I could have ever given them. You're giving them freedom. Freedom to just be… little girls. I not only apologize for trying to stop you, but thank you greatly for what you're doing."

Finally, Tenenbaum's eyes lit up in realization. She lowered her weapon. "You… you're not like the others."

Tired, I set down, back propped against the wall. "I'm like any other Daddy you're going to meet. I just want the best for my kids. Every day, when I and my Little Sister go walking through the halls, it always pained me to see them wasting their lives away, stabbing and corpses, drinking bodily fluids, day in and day out. Every day, I think that there's so much more for a child than… this!" I motioned with my hands, attempting to encompass the entirety of Rapture into one arm motion.

Tenenbaum walked over to me. She held out her hand to me, like I had so many times when a Little Sister had stumbled. Hesitating for only a moment, I took her hand lightly, and she helped me up. Her voice now soft, she said to me; "Mr. Drill. I would be honored if you would help me save the other little girls in Rapture, just like I have saved these little ones."

With my helmet glowing a lime green, I replied; "Dr. Tenenbaum. It would be my pleasure."

Luckily for me, Bill Sr.'s drones were just as adept at reattaching large, round doors as they were at tearing them down. Unluckily for me, that left plenty of free time where I had little excuse to avoid patching up my relationship wit my former foe, who was sitting right across from me in the safe house.

* * *

Jack stared at me, eying me closely.

Well, if I wanted to get anywhere with this guy, I'd better be the one to start the conversation. "So…" He looked up, for at the moment I'd spoken he'd been concentrating very closely on the tip of his shoe. "No hard feelings, right?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "You nearly electrified me to a crisp. I practically blew your brains out. I guess we're even." His attention turned back to his shoe.

Another awkward beat. "I mean, it wasn't anything personal, you know? Just protecting the Little Sisters. Nothing at all to do with you killing other Big Daddies, shooting holes in my good friend Sander…"

"That freak was your friend?"

Count to ten Drill, count to ten… "I wouldn't say freak. Eccentric is more like it."

"Stubborn splicer, he was. Finally killed him with his own crossbow, ironically."

Oh, now he was pushing it. "Well, at least you were acting in self defense, right?"

"Well…" He averted his eyes. "He was going to attack me, I could just tell. It was preemptive self defense."

You've gotta be kidding me. "You just attacked him?!"

He stood up, fingers moving slowly towards his wrench. "Hey, don't compare me to any splicer or Big Daddy, you walking tin can!"

My head let off a light red glow, and I stood up as well, drill starting to spin. "Jack, does your mouth have some sort of a "shut up" feature, because you better stop before you start insulting everything else in Rapture! Maybe I'll just make that feature permanent…"

"Try it…" Both of us stepped forward, eyes and portholes inches apart when Tenenbaum separated us.

"Enough! If you two plan on working together, you'll need to settle your differences and move on!"

Bill Jr. flew over. "If you think about it, this is all just a huge misunderstanding! Drill, Jack and Tenenbaum didn't know about us. There's no way that a hostile encounter could have been avoided. What would you do if a statue-making lunatic just put you through half an hour of hell, and came within drill reach?"

Bill was right, as usual.

My portholes gave off a yellow color instead of green. "My apologies, Jack. I suppose allies should forgive and forget…"

Jack smirked. Seeing a Big Daddy apologize to you after fighting so many must've been a small triumph. That smirk didn't stay long, since Tenenbaum gave Jack a nudge and a stern look. Still reluctant to be working with me, Jack grunted, "Likewise." He left it at that.

* * *

"Supposedly, Jack and Tenenbaum are planning on an attack on Fontaine. With him gone, Little Sister rescue operations will go much more smoothly. The splicers will be unorganized and easy to dispatch. However, assault rates on Little Sisters will rise with nothing to hold them back. But with my help, the sisters can be rounded up quickly, due to their trust in me, and the trust other Big Daddies have in me. Plus Bill and I will be a force to be reckoned with when combined with Jack when we face Fontaine. I still question Jack's brute nature. Granted, he shows strong tactical intelligence in battle. But I question how far he'll go to kill Fontaine, and whether I'll end up with Richard in the big Rapture in the sky. Supposedly Jack's a good guy. Tenenbaum's told me about the moral dilemma Jack has been facing, either rescuing or harvesting Little Sisters. Who knows when that temptation of Adam will be too much for Jack to pass up? We'll just have to see."

-Drill

_I feel rather satisfied with this chapter. Granted, it's shorter than most chapters I write (about half as short, actually), but it just feels… right. Anyway- wait a second… __Shoot, it's April Fools Day, and I didn't prepare anything! __Um, yeah. This entire chapter was fake. None of it happened. Yeah. April Fools (not really). So, R & R this totally not real chapter. Thank you._


	10. The Fonal Battle, Part 1

_The chapter title is "The Fonal Battle". Get it? It's the words Fontaine and final mixed together into one word? So instead of the "Final Battle" it's the "FOnal Battle? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! … Bah. No one appreciates my humor!_

"Jack and Drill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water..."

-Frank Fontaine

* * *

"Here's the plan."

It had been a few days since the fateful encounter between me and the two rebels who stood before me. Since then, I'm happy to say that I've played a most crucial role in the freeing of Little Sisters. It isn't too hard. The other Big Daddies trust me, and the Little Sisters are happy to go with me.

Currently Tenenbaum, Jack, and I were standing around a wooden table in the safe house, looking over the schematics of Rapture. It had taken a good deal of time for Tenenbaum to formulate a plan of attack. The basic roles of our little committee had Tenenbaum as the overall planner, Jack served as the expert in the field, and I… I guess I was just the muscle. And planner. Definitely a planner. At least, I hope they didn't rate my intelligence that low…

Tenenbaum began to relay the attack strategy. "The halls of Rapture offer only a single route of attack; the proving grounds." I'd been lucky enough not to endure the proving grounds, since I was created during a more chaotic, unorganized time in Rapture. Basically, I woke up, and there I was. "The only route to the proving grounds is through the Little Sister's Orphanage, which in turn can only be reached through Point Prometheus. A stealthy attack will be near impossible, so brute force will be needed to breach Fontaine's defenses."

Brute force. I have a feeling that won't be too hard between me and Jack.

"You will begin by making your way through Point Prometheus to the orphanage. You won't be able to miss the entrance to the orphanage, trust me. Once inside the orphanage, you will continue on to the proving grounds. Between you two and the security drones, the splicers shouldn't be too difficult to manage. Up to the proving grounds, that is. The one problem you'll have is with security."

"Security?" I asked. "Bill can get past any door in Rapture," I snapped my gargantuan fingers, "Like that!"

"True," Tenenbaum nodded. "But these doors were specially designed, permitting only Little Sisters in."

Huh. Shoot.

"That's why you will bring one Little Sister with you. Granted, if that sister is killed, you can go get another one, but I'd prefer you to not treat them like easily replaceable keys. Do you understand?"

Jack nodded. I replied, "Tenenbaum, I'm a Big Daddy. I would more likely die than let a Sister fall into the hands of a splicer."

"Well, let's hope it just doesn't come to that."

* * *

"Fontaine. We want our Adam now!"

"Weez been slavin' away for yous. We gots to get ours fair share, capisce?"

"… Gents. It is apparent to me that Jack alone wasn't a problem. Now he has that big brute of a Daddy. Those drones may be a nuisance, but the Daddy is where Jack's going to get all his extra muscle."

"And we care… why?"

"That Daddy's bout as emotionally stable as that atomic bomb. We just need to get in his head."

"Answer the question. Why should we care?"

"Do me one more favor, and you can have your stinkin' adam. I just need you guys to do a little… collection mission."

* * *

Point Prometheus is a creepy place. As me, Jack, and Bill's kids made our ways through the halls, I could see remnants from the past conflicts of Ryan and Fontaine. Posters covered in political lies were curling off the walls, the paint peeling as well to keep it company. The pipes had worn down from lack of use, so it didn't surprise me in the least to find puddles throughout the compound, and a few small lakes as well. Grizzly sights of bodies hung from makeshift gallows filled the larger rooms, a demonstration to all of what Ryan would do to parasites messing with the great chain. Granted, the medical pavilion and Fort Frolic were more horrific in their sights, but the shock and awe of those places was trumped by Point Prometheus' more subtle atmosphere, the type that crawled under your skin, an unnerving feeling to say the least.

But with Jack and 50 sentient drones, we were like a small army. If splicers attacked, we'd be just fine. Heck, later, when I'd contact Bill, our numbers would multiply!

The problem came with Abby.

The small girl, riding on my shoulders, looked around completely unaware of the vile nature of the world around her. I begged her not to volunteer, but she had refused, stating, "Mr. B, I saw you dead once. This time, I'm going to come along and protect you, like you've always protected me!" If only a Big Daddy could shed a tear… The other Big Daddies may have gotten love through the pheromones, but I could happily dwell in the fact that the love I shared with the Little Sisters was real.

Bam! A gunshot rang out!

"Protect the sister!" I bellowed, flicking my porthole to a red color.

"On it!" 10 drones shouted, encircling Abby in a protective formation.

Thugs started jumping out of the shadows, while spiders were dropping from the ceiling. The nitros were tossing bombs, and lead heads were sticking to the shadows, firing from afar. Ahh, a regular day in Rapture.

Bill Jr., the "general" of this army of drones, began relaying orders, despite the raucous that was stirred. "Green team, I want a nitro purge on that far ledge. Red team, do a ceiling sweep. Yellow team, seek and destroy, and brown team, close range protect-"  
"Bill!" I shouted, scoring a double stab with my drill on a spider and thug, "Me, Jack, and Silver team have close range! Just get rid of those lead heads and nitros!"

Military translation; Green team would handle the nitros, Red team would make sure no spider splicers were still lingering on the ceiling, Yellow team would take care of the lead heads, and everyone else would handle the hand-to-hand fighting.

Drones were flying in all directions, and the screams of splicers were drowned out by the continuous gunfire. My drill seemed to always have a target, as I shoved it down the throat of a screaming thug, only having to rip it out, with a stream of blood and chunk of gore to follow, and gut another thug who was hammering away with a sledgehammer. I felt a sudden bang on my head and nearly dropped to my knees. Hearing the loading of a shotgun from the now mounted spider splicer, he screamed, "Yippy-Kay-Yay, motherfu-" Another shot rang out above the din, and I turned to see Jack with crossbow. With a curt nod, he spun around and nailed a splicer who was sneaking up behind him with his wrench, an instant kill.

* * *

Amateur. I swung again, connecting with another thug. A little freeze here, a blast of fire, there, and… done. Looking around, I could see the drones reconvening, and there were mixed shouts of joy and sorrow, for the battle wasn't entirely without causalities. I watched as Drill gathered up the smashed remains of 13 drones. The guy shouldn't become attached to machines. They weren't really alive. And they were far too fragile. With all the machines that I've hacked in Rapture, I know perfectly well how easily machines can turn on their master.

Checking my weapons' ammunition supply, I'd happened to glance up. Looking down on us was a Big Daddy. Rosie, I'd reckon. Standing in the shadows he was hard to make out. He was definitely larger than other Big Daddies I've seen. The outline was strange, too, like he had some additions. His porthole glowed green, but it was very sickly and pail, a very unnatural shade. He turned, and began to walk away.

And was his right arm missing?

I shrugged. "Drill. We need to continue." I don't know why I needed this walking metal deathtrap, but I suppose one Big Daddy that isn't out to kill me is the one advantage I'm going to get in this hell hole.

"Right." There was a hint of sadness in the monotone voice. What, still wasn't over the robots? The one Big Daddy I get, and he's a big softy. Then again, would I prefer a softie or a maniac killer…?

* * *

"That's it." I muttered, looking up at the entrance to the Little Sister's Orphanage. Two grinning nutcrackers manned either side of the entrance, and oversized alphabet blocks also joined in the decoration. The gate kept its color remarkably well, and it made it all the more eerie that something so seemingly innocent was truly an indicator of corruption and decay in Rapture. And I was about to enter it.

"WELL, WELL, WELL…" A voice boomed throughout Rapture's halls.

"Fontaine." hissed Jack. The drones flitted about nervously and Abby hung tightly to my leg.

"YOU ALL SEEMED TO HAVE MADE IT PAST MY LITTLE ARMY. WHATEVER IS A GUY TO DO?" There was a small burst of static from his chuckle being distorted by the mike. I wish he'd get on with it. Too many people loved to mince words in Rapture. "YOU'RE A LUCKY MAN, JACK. YOU GOT A LITTLE TROOP OF TIN SOLDIERS FOLLOWING YOU AROUND, AND YOU GOT THAT NEW DOG OF YOURS FOLLOWING YOU AROUND, DRAGGING HIS TAIL BEHIND HIM." What! Why that… "FRANKLY, THEY'RE RUINING MY PLANS. SO THEY'RE GOING TO HAVE TO GO. TIME FOR A BIT O' PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE. OH, BILL, TIME TO PLAY!" There was a click as the intercom turned off. What did he mean? A computer console was attached to a nearby wall, and I promptly hurried towards it.

"Mr. B, what's happening?" Abby had followed me.

"Yeah, Drill. What's going on?" I winced as best a Big Daddy could. I really didn't need Jack on my back at the moment.

I focused on the terminal. "Bill you there? Bill?" No response. Turning back towards the group, all eyes were on me. "Um…" I stammered, "Bill Jr., what's up with your dad?"

"Couldn't tell you."

Great. I returned to the terminal. "Bill?"

"Drill?" Thank goodness, he answered me!

"Bill, what's the deal with you and Fontaine?"

"Drill, you have to go, NOW!" There was an intense urgency in his tone. "Why didn't you tell me you were attacking Fontaine?"

"You would've gone into your speech about how it was too dangerous, that's all."

"Damn it, Drill! Fontaine is my new user now! He has control over my programming!"

"You don't mean…" And I heard it. The distant sound of security drones off in the distance. Fontaine had forced Drill into unloading every security drone in the area.

And they were all after us.

Shit.

"Mr. B…?" Abby whimpered, as I lifted her onto my back. I glanced over at Jack. He shrugged.

"Well? We going?"

The Bill's kids hovered in a group, whispering. Before I could tell them o get a move on, Bill Jr. flew over to me. "There's an emergency security door just down the hall in the orphanage. Get to it, and shut it. We'll hold them off."

"What?" I shouted. "You'll be torn part!" They would, too. "You are not going to play hero on my watch!"

"We are. Drill, they're going to be here any second. If you don't leave now, we'll all die. Besides, once you and Jack have the door closed, we'll scatter. Bill isn't so great at tracking multiple targets. Trust me."

"But…"

"You heard the bot, let's move." Jack, like the uncaring bastard that he always was, ran into the orphanage. Gazing one last time at these flitting companions of mine, I followed. I didn't look back, even as I heard the clashing of metal against meal, bullets whizzing through the air, and the artificial screams that came from my fallen comrades.

Damn you, Fontaine…

The emergency blast door shut behind me. I still didn't look back.

Fontaine said that he wanted the droids and me out of the way. Well, he's followed through halfway on his promise. Now, how was he planning to get rid of me…?

* * *

"...Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Drill will soon come tumbling after. (Transmission ends with maniac laughter)"

-Frank Fontaine

_So, here it is, the first part in my three part ultimate battle against Fontaine. Those of you who have played the game may be thinking, "This is stupid, I already know Jack wins. I kicked Fontaine's ass myself in the game. What a dumb writer." First off, that's not very nice calling me dumb. Second, the plot has already deviated a great deal away from the original. Who knows what could happen in Rapture. I could always utilize the fan fiction writer stereotype and throw in a random slash to spice things up. Maybe Big Daddy/Jack. Or Jack/Bill. How would a man make out with a security system? I don't know. Frankly, I think I need a bit of brain bleach now… ugh, Big Daddy/Jack, indeed… _


	11. The Fonal Battle, Part 2

_Holy crap. What is this? An update? But I thought Ratherhomely disappeared off the face of the earth. Read and enjoy._

"Hold on a second…" Jack turned towards me, his face indicating the impatience of stopping for even a moment. Not that I could blame him. The eerie feeling coming from the dilapidated testing area could unnerve anyone, even Jack, whose icy demeanor seemed capable of withstanding any psychological onslaught. But this place… Perhaps it was just the history of what the proving grounds was used for is what made it so creepy. It could have also been that I knew Fontaine was out to get me, and his surprise that he boasted over could be around any corner. "Jack, if you don't mind, could we stop here and rest?"

"I do mind." Jack's stern glare was uncompromising. "You are a Big Daddy. You don't need to rest."

"You're right." My electronic voice had an edge to it. "I'm just fine. But my dear Abby here…" I indicated to the little bundle coddled in my arm with my drill. "Is bushed. We stop." My porthole glowed yellow. "Now." If that bastard wanted to run my little sister ragged, I'd-

"Alright."

My porthole turned light green in surprise. "What?"

Jack started to walk towards a wall a short distance away, an area beneath the walkway that lined the walls of the large room we were in. "That thing is our key to getting to Fontaine. I'm not going to waste this opportunity because 'Abby' didn't get her nap."

I followed him, taking careful steps so as not to wake Abby. "She's not a thing. She's a living thing, just like you and me."

Jack let out a little laugh as he plopped himself down against the wall. "You know, even with all this time we've spent together, I'm still amazed. You care."

"Of course I do." I set Abby down gently, leaning her against the wall next to Jack, before taking a seat myself. "She's my little sister."

Jack shook his head. "No, no, no... I mean you actually care. The other Big Daddy's, they don't care what happens. They're just programmed, or something. I bet every single Big Daddy was the biggest bastard before they became a, well, a Big Daddy." He eyed me. "Present company not excluded."

I had been looking at Jack, but now looked away. I could feel shame welling up inside, and I couldn't bring myself to look him in the face. "You don't need to exclude me. I'm the biggest bastard of them all." A moment of silence passed. "Jack, I'm not proud of who I was before becoming a Big Daddy. You say that Big Daddies don't care. You say we're monsters." I looked back at him. "I say that becoming a Big Daddy was the best thing that ever happened to me. True, all Big Daddies may have been the worst, heartless, bastards ever to walk the face of the Earth. And I may have been the lowest of them all. But turning into a Big Daddy has given me the most beautiful gift of all. The ability to love, unrequited. To think of someone other than yourself. And I think that's true for every Big Daddy."

There was another remarkably quiet moment.

I let out an electronic crackle, my equivalent of a snicker. "God, that was corny, wasn't it?"

A smile grew on Jacks face. He started to chuckle, and said, "Yeah, that was really corny. But hey, it wasn't too bad."

As Abby woke up, the both of us had started laughing. "I've seen some bad movies," I managed between laughs, "And that speech would easily fit in!"

Jack had tears coming from his eyes. It was comforting to see that he could actually express an emotion besides constant seriousness. "Hey, at least you've seen movies before!" he joked. Abby seemed remarkably confused, and as we both settled down, Jack remarked, "Drill. You're alright. Corny, but not that bad. By Rapture standards, anyway."

My porthole emitted a lime green hue. Coming from Jack, that was the greatest compliment in the world. I lightly held Abby's hand as I stood up. "No time to waste. Heh, look at me, saying that when I asked for us to rest!" Jack didn't respond, since after the sound of a single gun shot, I looked over to see Jack clawing at his throat, before collapsing.

"Is he…?" I gasped.

"Mr. Bubbles?" Abby had a frightened look. "What happened to Mr. Jack?"

My light turned a scarlet red. "Get behind me Abby." Without a moments hesitation, she took refuge behind my leg. There was a loud clunking, like footsteps. I scanned the large room we were in, which had plenty of places for a splicer to hide. But the voice that greeted wasn't a splicer's.

A deep, deep voice spoke, seeming to rumble, coming from everywhere at once. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? Mommy, can daddy come out to play?"

"Who are you? Show yourself!" I shouted. But that was all I could do.

"Ah, but don't you know me? After all…" A huge figure suddenly dropped from the balcony above, landing with a metallic thud in front of me, a red light coming from its head that was blinding at such close quarters. "You killed me." With that the thing grabbed the metal grating that protected my portholes, and to my shock, it threw me over its shoulder. And as I soared, I could only wonder, "Who did I kill? it couldn't be…" And I landed hard, scraping the metallic floor as I landed a good 20 feet away.

As I slowly stood, I could feel the pain of the impact. And looking up, I saw a horrific figure. A Big Daddy, a good foot taller than the usual Big Daddy. It seemed as though it was a Rosie model, except there was a ton of scrap metal sloppily welded on all over its body. On its back, from what I could see, was a pack similar to what all Daddies wore, but… different. I could see the gun that killed Jack, a rivet gun welded to the creature's left arm. The weight didn't seem to encumber the beast at all. But the worst thing wasn't the left arm, but the right. It wasn't there. The Daddy was missing its right arm. Surely more than one Daddy had a severed limb…? He couldn't possibly be…

And in its left hand it held Abby.

Nobody touches Abby.

I let out a Big Daddy wale, and charged the figure, who didn't move. Charging towards it, I unleashed the most fearsome drill swing I'd ever done. It wasn't very assuring to me when my drill bounced right off the thing's armor. "Like my new coat? Fontaine had all this extra metal welded on. You can't hurt me." He threw Abby to one side, and with a cry she hit the ground, letting out a light sob. "But I can do plenty to you." Making a fist, it let loose an earth shattering punch, again knocking me back an astounding 10 feet. "The extra strength running through my body is nice too. The more drugs the merrier." I stood up. Again. No way I could win a head on confrontation. I slowly began backing away. "Distance won't help. After all, you should know I'm the best shot in Rapture. I taught you myself."

I froze. I muttered, "You can't be Richard. Richard died. I saw him in his final moments…"

"You thought I died!" Richard roared. "And you were the one who caused it! You let me die that day!"

I mentally winced. "I couldn't save you! I've lived that moment over and over, wondering how I could've changed what happened!"

"Liar." Richard's voice was filled with venom. "Fontaine was the one who saved me. He brought me back. I don't know how. And he made me better. Stronger. You were always so cocky, with your whole 'speaking' crap. Fontaine promised me my revenge! And I plan to take it. Now, watch some of my new toys in action!"

"Fontaine's just using you…" I began, but Richard had already pressed a button on his chest, and the strange pack on his back roared to life, flames jetting out at a horizontal angle. And thanks to those jets propelling him forward, Richard charged at me with lightning speed, a full on body slam that hit before I could react. Richard effortlessly pushed me back, finally pinning to me to a wall with a metallic crash echoing through the room. And slowly, painfully, I could feel my metal armor caving in under the immense pressure.

So. This was it. Killed by my one of my best friends. What a way to go. If I had eyes still, I'd shed a tear…

"Hey!" Richard released me, while also turning off the jets from his back. He turned. Through clouded vision, I could see Jack. "It's called a vita-chamber, asshole."

Richard laughed. He began walking towards Jack, leaving me to recuperate. "I killed you once. I can do it again. This time without a gun."

Jack smirked. "You look pretty heavy."

"Yeah. And…?"

"And it's a good thing I used cyclone traps on one spot."

"…Wait, what the…" And with the next step, Richard went soaring into the air, high enough to hit the ceiling where Jack had planted at least five proximity mines. A huge explosion echoed through the room; with the result bring a massive thud as Richard was sent hurtling back to the floor, hitting hard enough to leave a dent. Then, as the smoke cleared, all was silent.

And then there was a groan.

And Richard began to rise.

"Crap." Jack muttered.

"Jack!" I shouted. He looked at me, seeming controlled but I could tell he was panicking deep down. One of his best tricks hadn't worked. "Take Abby. Kill Fontaine. I'll handle him."

Jack looked at me for a second, mulling something over in his head, finally making up his mind. "Good luck." Breaking into a sprint, he grabbed Abby's hand, both of them disappearing as they left the room. I turned my attention back to the hulking mass of scrap that was now dusting itself off.

"I will admit," Richard growled. "That hurt a bit. I may feel a bit achy tomorrow. As for now…" He charged, as fast as a train and hitting like one two. You'd think I'd have learned to dodge these… I went sailing, hitting the wall behind me, slumping to the ground. Richard began walking towards me, obviously enjoying the pain he was causing me. But even with all that hate, I couldn't help but feel there was still something I could connect to.

"Richard, why do you hate me? We've been friends for as long as I could remember…"

"Friends? Fontaine's finally showed me that you were never worthy of my comradeship. You've always been a self-righteous prick. Since you could talk, all the Little Sisters liked you the best! They never truly loved me! But now… With you out of the way, Fontaine says I can have all the Little Sisters I want! He says you're the cause of all my problems! You need to go!" He'd reached me now, arm-mounted rivet gun pointed at my head, a lethal range for a lethal weapon. "Any last words?"

A moment passed. "Richard." I whispered. "You think the Little Sisters will love you now? You think you're now better than me? Tell me; at the beginning of the fight, what did you do with Abby your precious Little Sisters?" Richard didn't say anything. "You threw her aside. Like trash. You say you want their love? Well, then, by all means, hurt every single one till you achieve your goals."

Richard didn't say anything. He just stood there, ready to pull the trigger.

_And that's that. Hopefully I'll finish up the conclusion of Inside much faster than I did this. Hey, you guys don't mind waiting another year or two, do you?_


End file.
